Locked Away
by Iggycat
Summary: When 14 year old Arthur Kirkland is evacuated from London during the Blitz, he dreads having to live with an American family. The Briton expects despair, loneliness, and lack of love- But what he doesn't expect, is to be wrong. Arthur's POV. USUK WW2 AU
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I've come to find over the years, that if you ask anyone on the subject of World War Two, they have nothing but devastating facts on death, or a tragic story of loss in store for you. It seems that no one was truly happy during the dark period of 1939-1945, as the whole world was divided against itself and left to mourn the tragedies it left behind. Of course, I could give you a similar story of my own misfortune, or what happened to the country I'd call home, but quite honestly I'd rather not. For the millions of happenings that went wrong during the time, perhaps one thing went right. The Second World War brought hardship, but by some ungodly fate, it brought me a blessing. This is World War Two seen through my eyes, and this is the story of that one incident that went right.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

_A/N: Hi there! Thanks so much for clicking on my story! I truly hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback! I tried to do some research behind this, but if you find any historical inaccuracy feel free to point it out! Hope you enjoy it._

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**September 3rd, 1939**

Britain and France declared war on Germany today. We'd all seen this coming; I mean who were we kidding with these ridiculous appeasement methods? I was only thirteen and even I knew the Germans wouldn't stop with only the addition of Czechoslovakia. They'd moved into Poland two days prior, and finally the Allied governments seemed to realize that pacifist actions were getting us nowhere. The War to End All Wars had failed, and I had a sinking feeling that it would only get worse from here on out. It was the beginning of the end.

**September 17th, 1940 23:40**

The sirens. The sound was new to me, but in the short time since the Blitz began, I'd come to know the noise very well. With it would follow death, destruction, despair, and for a lack of a better word (or a word that doesn't start with the letter 'D') - devastation. I loathed the alarms that signaled yet another air raid; they made me wonder if I would live past my teen years.

"Arthur!"

I turned to face the voice that had called for my attention, just as mum grabbed me forcefully by the arm. The routine was new to her as well, but she seemed prepared as she swiftly dragged me out of our flat and down the stairs of the building. She hadn't bothered to lock the door, but what did it matter since we might all die anyway? My mind had become rather pessimistic in the past two weeks, as I'd actually started to stare death in the face. I was young, and I was bright, but I sure as hell didn't want to be killed by the German Luftwaffe.

"Can't you run a bit faster, sweetheart?" my mother prodded encouragingly, as she continued to lead me to our destination. I picked up the pace a bit, though I was never a best in the athletics department. Quite frankly I was only running because I had to, literally my life depended on it.

Together mum and I made it to the Tube station that we'd come to use as a bomb shelter. We flew down the stairs, descending into the train station that never seemed to be used for trains anymore. Tons of others flocked down the stairs of the Marble Arch Station as well, considering it was located right in the middle of a quite populated area known as Westminster. I felt a little claustrophobic with all these strangers near me as we huddled together like penguins, yet I knew that while they were unfamiliar to me, we actually had a lot in common: All British, all stuck in another bloody world war, and all scared of what the future would hold. These people were foreigners to me, but nonetheless they gave me some peculiar feeling of comfort, knowing we were all stuck in the same hellish predicament. We all feared death. It was evident on all of our faces.

"Arthur get down!"

Too busy with my own thoughts, I hadn't realised as the ground began to shake. The German planes were no doubt overhead and would release their arsenal any minute now. Mother pushed me to the ground, and I covered my ears with my hands as we'd been told to do. She leaned down next to me and kissed my cheek, before taking the same precautions as I did. I looked at her momentarily before averting my eyes back down to the floor. I held my ears tighter as the first quake rocked the station, and as several more followed, a tear ran down my cheek to hit the ground. Getting out of here would be a miracle, and I vowed that if I ever did, I would find a purpose in my miserable life.

**September 18th, 1940 18:50**

You know I wasn't quite in shock that we'd made it out, if only a bit skeptic. We'd been lucky this time, but eventually luck runs out. All good things must come to an end and all that rot, right? Well that was my mindset on it and it wasn't about to change. However, I still remembered the revelation I'd had the day before, but now that I was no longer in the hands of death, I contemplated what I'd really meant. Find a purpose in my life… How exactly do you do that? It's not as if I had a treasure map where X marked the spot. Of course my subconscious couldn't have picked something easier to complete like 'help mum clean up around the house more.' No. Arthur Kirkland never settled for anything simple, it always had to be a challenge.

"Something wrong, dear?" Mother looked a bit concerned as she questioned me.

I could have been cynical. There were so many wonderful answers to that question. 'Hmm, yes. Last time I checked we were in the middle of a war, and I don't know what's going to happen, let alone whether or not I'll live.' But I was a good boy, and I knew that she wasn't in the best shape right now either. I'm sure the last thing my mother wanted to hear was a smart-arse retort from her son.

"Mum, what would you say is the purpose in life?"

For some reason, my mother seemed startled by the question. I'm not quite sure why, but perhaps she thought I was starting to crumble into a pool of my own self doubt and hopelessness.

"Arthur, honey. Everyone has their own individual purpose in life. Mine is different from yours and yours is different from anyone else's in the world," she tapped my nose for emphasis. "I think mine was to meet your father, fall in love and have you. I couldn't ask for anything better than that."

I smiled at her lightly and leaned up to kiss her cheek. Mother always seemed to have a calming effect on me, even during the darkest days.

I looked back down again, mulling over what she'd said and its relevance to me. So everyone's purpose in life was different then? I wondered what mine would be. If I could be half the person Mum was, I'd be happy.

"Sweetheart?"

My eyes flew back to hers, two matching pairs of green.

"I'm sure you have a wonderful purpose in life, Arthur. I've known that since the day you we're born. It'll be amazing, better than anything you've ever imagined," she paused. "But darling, sometimes it takes time to find that inner value and meaning. Perhaps you haven't found yours yet, but your time will come."

Again I grinned at her, as she ruffled my messy blonde hair. My smiles were hard to come by these days, but mother always knew how to make them appear.

Even before the war began I was never one to smile much. I didn't have many friends at school, and never once did I bring someone home. It was obvious that this concerned her, but I was never good at bonding with other people, so I'd given up awhile back. Besides this, my father had also just passed away the previous year and that left Mum in a terribly devastated state. I tried to console her to the best of my abilities, but I was really no match for what I was up against. With one of my parents gone, the other a wreck, and a war going on all around me, I really had no reason to smile.

I hadn't realised that mum had wrapped her arms around my waist, and was holding on to me tightly. Looking up at her, I saw something in her gaze that resembled grief or maybe regret. While she never looked completely happy since father died, I'd never seen anything quite like that in her eyes before.

"Are you all right?" It seemed our roles had been reversed.

"Arthur, dear."

Oh god. She'd pulled out that tone. Mother never used such a solemn voice unless she was scolding me or explaining something very serious. I couldn't possibly think of anything I'd done wrong, so I figured it must be the latter.

"You know I love you, right, pet?"

I nodded my head in understanding.

"And all I want is for you to be safe and happy."

I looked up at her with something akin to a perplexed expression. Of course she wanted to keep me safe and out of harm's way. After all it wasn't her fault Europe had gotten itself into this mess. And as for my happiness… Well I suppose I was glad at least one person cared about my feeling.

"So I've decided that it would be in your best interest to be evacuated from London."

My eyes widened to the size of tiny planets. She couldn't be serious. We'd talked about this before, when discussing emergency plans, but I never thought it would come to that.

"Mum, really. That's okay. I know I would be safer out in the countryside, but all the same I'd rather be with you," I paused to catch my breath. "Besides, we don't have any relatives up there, and I know we're low on money right no-"

"Arthur, I've already bought the ticket, and I've already made accommodations for your stay."

I looked at her completely disoriented. When had all this happened? Where was I?

"But… what about y-"

"Don't you dare worry about me, love, I'll be fine. Now… Go pack up a bag with your clothes and valuables all right? You're scheduled to leave on the 11:30 train tomorrow."

For a moment I stood there staring but didn't move. I knew there was no point in arguing with mother, because you'd be fighting a losing battle. When I regained the ability to think, I willed my legs to take me to the room I occupied in the small flat. There I found a bag, packed up my clothes, a few books, and a camera Dad had gifted me before he passed. I sat on my bed with the bag and peered around the space. It was only then that I started to wonder if I would ever see my room again.

**September 19th, 1940 11:00**

Morning had passed by in a blur. Mum had woke me up around eight, and I was quickly instructed to shower and look presentable for when I met my new caretaker. Apparently I would be sent to live with one Mrs Jones, whose husband somehow had connections with my father. Mother had contacted Mr Jones earlier to see if there was anything he could do for me, and the man insisted that I seek refuge in the family's country home. I didn't really know how to react to this, considering I didn't know this woman or her husband at all, and I'd consistently grown more apprehensive throughout the day. Now I stood beside my mother, counting down the minutes until I'd have to board the train.

"She's a nice woman you know. I met her once when your father took me to that work banquet."

My eyes stayed parallel to the ground, and I attempted in vain to put up a façade of a smile.

"The family is from America. Mr. Jones has a very high position at the embassy. Think of all you could learn about the United States!"

This time I did look up at her, not because I was interested, but rather to show my despair. I hadn't known they were American. That just tripled my misery. I thought I'd be sent to some British family, where at least I could feel a little more at home while sipping a cup of tea, but no. What would I be subjected to in an American household? Forced to discuss American football? Or forced to drink coffee? Or? Or?

"Dear… there's also one last thing I haven't mentioned…"

Oh goodness. There was something else to add to my doom? Wonderful. Fate really had it in store for me.

"What is it?"

"Well, they have a son. From what I know he's about the same age as you."

Damn. Curse it all. Any other child would probably be happy to have a playmate, but instead this just augmented my dread. I was being forced to leave my mother, to live with an American family, and to top it all off, I'd probably have some loudmouth twit that I'd have to please to be polite. I think mother could tell I was not at all thrilled because she put a comforting hand on my shoulder and leaned down to match my gaze.

"Everything will be all right, Arthur. You'll have someone to… bond and grow up with. Promise… Promise me you'll try to make a friend."

The waterworks were about to be turned on, so I quickly nodded and told my mother I'd do as she wished. I didn't give much thought to the subject as it was just instinct to stop her from crying. She pulled me into an embrace and whispered that she loved me into my ear. I could see other children boarding the train now, and I knew I'd have to depart soon enough.

Mum pulled away, and as I started to pick up my bag she stopped me. She grabbed my hand flipped it over, and then deposited something inside. I sent her a puzzled look as she rolled my fingers closed.

"Th-that's the locket your father gave me when we married. It's very special Arthur, and I want you to give it to someone important, someone you love."

I wanted to start crying then and there, but I willed myself not to. She made it seem as if we would never meet again, and that was not the case, right?

"Mum, I-"

Right as I was about to hand the locket back, a whistle bellowed from the train announcing its departure. Mum kissed me, hugged me tight, and then ushered me on my way. The conductor gestured to me and I quickly made my way toward him. He helped me up, and pointed to a car filled with other children. I took a seat by the window, just as the brakes were lifted and the train started to roll out of the station. Looking outside, I scanned over the crowd desperately for my mother, but she was nowhere to be found. I frowned and looked harder, but the platform was moving away now, becoming smaller and smaller with every second. As the London station became a speck in the distance, I wondered if my life would ever be the same again.


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: So many reviews! Thank you guys all so much! I really can't believe the first chapter of this story got so much attention, but I guess I shouldn't question my luck. I hope you'll continue to read, and I hope the rest of the story will live up to your (very high) expectations._

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**September 19th, 1940 15:00**

Wretched! That's exactly how the whole train ride had been. For three and a half hours I tried to read, or simply gaze out at the passing scenery, but those things were easier said than done when there were infants crying, and obnoxious young girls chatting their lives away just behind you. That, in addition to the fact that I'd just left my home, my mother, and my old life behind was none too comforting.

"Lancashire Station will be the next stop! I repeat, Lancashire is next."

I looked up from the book I'd been _attempting_ to read and focused my attention on the voice of the conductor. This was my stop. I'd been waiting almost four bloody hours to hear my destination announced, but now… I suddenly felt a bit nervous. Glancing out the window, I could see the small country station coming into view. I hastily tucked my book back into my knapsack, and slung the bag over my shoulder as the train started to slow down. I reached into the pocket of my trousers ensuring that the necklace my mother had given me was still there where I'd placed it. I'd never forgive myself if I left it on the train.

"This is Lancashire!"

The train rolled to a rumbling halt, and several children including myself rose to depart. As I descended from the steps of the car, an impulsive feeling of dread started to take over. I didn't even know who I was looking for! How stupid was I to have boarded the train so blindly? I should have asked mother what Mrs Jones looked like so I'd at least have an idea as to what to look for. My only clue was that she was American, but what did Americans typically look like?

I started my search, glancing through the small crowd that had gathered. Many people had found the children or relatives they were seeking and had started to greet each other with warm hugs and smiles. Why did I feel so utterly alone? Mother was my only family, and now, she was gone.

"Arthur? Is that you?"

Hearing my name, I traced back the voice which had a distinct American accent. Across the gate from the platform, waiting in the parking lot, was a bright-eyed woman who was smiling at me. From where I was I could tell she had golden blonde hair and astonishing blue eyes.

"That is you isn't it?" she continued to speak to me. "I'm Mrs Jones! If that's you up there, come here so I can greet you properly!"

So this was the woman who was to be my guardian for an elongated period of time. She seemed nice enough, but I was a bit unnerved that she was all smiles under these dark circumstances.

Timidly, I started my journey toward her. I crossed the gate and made my way through the parking lot to the figure who had not stopped smiling since she'd laid eyes on me. When I reached her I lowered my bag, and held out my hand. Hopefully I'd make a good first impression.

"Hello Mrs Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for letting me be a guest in your hom-"

The words died on my lips, and my eyes widened, as the woman enveloped me in a kind hug. This was new and extremely awkward for me, but in an effort to be polite, I remained quiet until she pulled away.

"You don't have to be so stingy, Arthur! I'm obliged to finally meet you and welcome you to our cozy little country home. When my husband told me there was a boy he knew that needed to be evacuated, I couldn't say yes fast enough!"

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, considering I didn't actually _know_her husband, my dad had known him, but luckily Mrs. Jones just continued talking.

"You look just like your father. No wonder it was so easy to pick you out from the crowd."

I flushed a little at this and averted my eyes to the ground. People had told me I looked like my father before, but somehow this new woman made it seem like a compliment to have extremely bushy eyebrows and a disheveled mop of blonde hair.

"Th-thank you Mrs. Jones. I'm grateful that you're letting me stay here," I continued, not wanting to dwell on the subject of my father. "And I promise I won't be any trouble at all." Mum would kill me if I wrecked havoc while being a guest in someone's home.

"Oh we'll see about that once you meet Alfred! I see the two of you getting into all sorts of mischief together."

I gave her a skeptical look but she simply smiled and opened up the passenger door of her car for me.

"Is Alfred your son?" It was a bit of an obvious question, but I wanted it clarified nonetheless.

"Sure is! Wait till you meet him! He's been so excited ever since I told him you'd be coming to live with us. Boy's been restless preparing things to do with you."

She got into the driver's seat, and the engine roared to life. Before we drove off, she turned back to look at me.

"I have a good feeling about you two. You're gonna be great friends."

I had my doubts but voiced nothing. As much as my brain told me she was wrong, for some reason, I think I wanted her to be right.

**September 19th, 1940 15:15**

To my amazement, the drive home had actually been somewhat pleasant. Mrs. Jones was a fascinating character, and while I was still shy, I learned to become comfortable with her rather quickly. As we drove back from the station she told me about herself and her life. I was shocked to find out that she'd been born in the United Kingdom, but left with her family at a young age in the hopes of finding better opportunity in America.

"So… you're actually British?"

She seemed to laugh as I asked the question hesitantly.

"Technically, yes. Since I was born here, I was guaranteed the citizenship, but when we moved to America I picked up their citizenship as well."

I was intrigued, so I continued to prod her for questions.

"I thought if you vow to become a citizen of the United States, you had to agree to give up any other forms of citizenship."

"Actually… You're right, most people do think that, but it's legal to have a dual citizenship," she smiled at me before her eyes went back to the road. "And Alfred has a double citizenship too since he was born in the States but I was able to pass the British essence to him as well. For some reason he resents it though."

I snorted at this. I don't know why, but from the way his mother described him I was starting to picture Alfred as an obnoxious American hillbilly. Who wouldn't want to be British? We were rather amazing.

"But anyway, yes, I was born in Britain but raised in America. Our family decided to move back to England after Alfred's father was offered a position at the American embassy. We've been living here 'bout two years now, much to Alfred's dismay."

Sighing I stared out the window, and started to wonder what Alfred was like. He sounded quite like a fool to me, but perhaps I was wrong. His mother was nice enough, so all I could do was hope he resembled his mum.

I continued to have an invigorating conversation with Mrs. Jones as she drove us down the long and winding country road. She indulged me with several exciting stories, as well as facts about the States.

"You know I was almost on the Titanic? I'd been visiting my grandmother back in England, but luckily father had to leave early for business so we managed to catch a ship prior to the accident."

"That's extremely fortunate, think of how lucky you are to have made it home safely."

"Yes, you're very right, Arthur. Speaking of home, we're just about there."

Looking up through the front window of the car, a little rural house came into view. It was a fairly small abode, but it gave off a comfy and cozy feeling nonetheless. I started to study it, taking in as much of my new home as I could. The place had pastel yellow walls on the outside, but it seemed that some of the paint was chipping. Ivy was growing alongside the walls, yet it wasn't displeasing. There were also beautiful glass windows adorning the home, which allowed plenty of natural sunlight to penetrate within. From what I could tell, the house had likely been built in the early 1800's when electricity was not readily available, but had been fixed up in recent years. It wasn't really anything special, but this was my new home and I admitted that it looked rather inviting.

What lay just outside the home was nearly as nice. In the front yard was a garden with a beautiful arrangement of flowers and plants of every colour and type. I already spotted a rose bush, as well as several beds of tulips and daffodils. My mother had always loved the scent and beauty flowers brought, and thinking about her, I wondered if Mrs Jones would let me help out in her garden.

Once she parked, Mrs Jones swiftly exited the car and I followed suit. I walked around the back waiting for her to open the trunk so I could remove my belongings, but to my surprise, she came up to me and shook her head.

"I'll get your bag and put it in your new room. Why don't you go introduce yourself to Alfred? I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, I tensed. I wanted to make a good impression on Alfred, as I'd done for his mother, but I was also terrible at making connections with people my own age. What would the boy say about me being British or what about my lack of athleticism? I truly hoped he wouldn't judge too harshly, I was still keen on fulfilling my promise to mother of making a friend.

"Run along, Arthur. Alfred's probably around the back," she patted my shoulder lightly, "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to meet you."

And so warily, but still a tad bit eager, I started to walk toward the backyard.

**September 19th, ****1940 15:35**

Tentatively, I made my way to the back of the Jones' house. I honestly had no idea what to expect. I didn't know much about Alfred except that he was American, was my age, and evidently he was anxious to meet me. While I hated to admit it, that last feeling was mutual, but at the same time I was still scared beyond belief. What if he didn't like me? What if I was too boring? What if he thought I was mean or arrogant? I don't know how I'd survive living through this war without some type of companionship.

As I crept around the side of the house, I noticed something hanging from a nearby tree. I squinted as I continued to approach, trying to figure out what exactly it was. A rope was secured to a sturdy branch, and connected to the cord was an old worn out tire. What on earth was this? I'd never seen anything like it in my life. I studied it further noticing that it was swaying back & forth, and stopped dead in my tracks when I realised there was a person in the contraption. The individual was facing away from me, so all I got was a flattering view of their rear, but even still from the dirtied trousers the person had on, I knew exactly who it was.

I took a few steps closer, hoping that the boy would notice me and turn around.

Nothing.

I tried clearing my throat to get his attention.

Nothing.

How daft was the lad? Apparently I'd have to make myself noticed.

"A-Alfred?"

What happened next, while awkward, was certainly entertaining.

At the sound of my voice the boy had tried to turn around and break free of his tire prison, but instead had gotten stuck. While he attempted to pull his front half through the thing, his lower half started to run around in circles. He started to flail dramatically until finally he managed to pull himself out and fall backwards onto his bum.

While I tried to contain myself, my effort was in vain, and I burst into a fit of giggles. The boy was completely dirty from both falling and earlier play, and from the looks of it, he was quite dizzy as well. His appearance was a sight to behold, yet he recovered remarkably fast as he stood up to meet me.

I was quickly taken aback when I got a better look at the boy. He was a tad taller than me, and like his mother, he had beautiful golden locks. I also couldn't help but notice that Alfred also had a stunning pair of blue eyes hidden behind a pair of wire frames. My immediate thought was what a shame it was to have such precious treasures concealed by a lousy pair of glasses. If I was his mother, I'd have never let the boy cover up such a wonderful gift.

Glancing back up at him, I became flustered as I realised Alfred was mapping me out with just as much intensity. I took a step back and averted my eyes. How long had I been staring at him? That was certainly impolite. Mother would want me to apologise.

Glancing back up I found that Alfred was still giving me the once over. A light pink dusted my cheeks from embarrassment, and I hoped that he wasn't too quick to judge. People tended to avoid me due to either the caterpillars stationed above my head, the fact that I was rather reserved, or both. I certainly hoped Alfred would look past it, but seeing as most people didn't, I'd make the most of this regardless.

Slowly, and unsurely, I peeked back at the boy to see if I could make out what he might be thinking. From what I could tell, Alfred seemed jubilant, but there was still something causing him confusion. He looked at me once more, as if trying to overcome one last obstacle before he'd be able to hatch some type of friendship or amity with me.

"Wait. You're Arthur right?" he tried to ask calmly, but failed to mask the enthusiasm in his voice.

"Yes that would be m-"

I was sensing a pattern of being cut off mid-sentence. Again, I was met with an animated embrace, yet this time much less delicate, and instead, much more painful. I was enveloped in a bone-crushing, wholehearted hug. I didn't want to be rude, but Alfred really was holding me much too tight. I think he realised this sometime between cutting off my circulation and my face turning blue. He pulled back with a dopey grin on his face.

"Wow! It's great to finally meet you, Arthur! My name's Alfred. My full name would be Alfred F. Jones."

He was smiling brilliantly, and I was slightly amused to find that his teeth weren't a mess like so many British citizens. Yet in spite of that, I was still so confused about the boy. He didn't know anything about me, and already he was acting like we're great buddies who hadn't seen each other in years. I wasn't sure whether I should feel elated and flattered over his acceptance, or remain a bit skeptic. Luckily, he made that decision for me by displaying one of the most idiotic yet sincere grins I had ever seen.

"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked, just to be certain it wasn't a joke.

He cocked his head to the side and gave me a disbelieving look. His gaze seemed to imply it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Why shouldn't I smile? I just made a new friend."


	4. Chapter 3

** Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: New chapter! :D I promise there will be progression, I just felt that their initial meeting was rather important. I hope you enjoy and Please review :)**

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**September 19****th****, 1940 16:00**

"So… what do you call that thing?"

Alfred and I had gone through the stereotypical introductions and were now walking around the Jones' backyard. I was still fascinated by the strange rubber contraption I'd found the boy in, and in a way, I think I was trying to open up a bit more.

"What the tire swing? Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. What is it?"

"I'll show you! I'm sure you'll wanna try it out anyway!"

"Alfred I don't know if that's the best ide-"

Too late. The American had grabbed my arm and was dragging me back over to the tree where we'd first met. You know, at this point I'm not sure, but I think Alfred has a problem with personal space. I've known him all of 15 minutes, and already he's squeezed the breath out of me, pet my eyebrows, and now he's pulling me toward the tire swing. I don't like being 'manhandled' but for some reason, with Alfred, I've already deemed it ok.

"Alright, I'll show you what to do first, then you try ok?"

I crossed by arms, as soon as he released me from his death grip, and granted him an incredulous look.

"OK! So all you have to do is slide your arms and head in," he modelled for me, "And then you just push back with your legs and you'll start to swing!"

I watched as Alfred pushed back against the ground and then started to sway to and fro. It was enjoyable to watch since I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen anyone so happy. The boy was like a portal to the past; back before the war and depression.

He lowered his foot and met resistance from the ground. Slowly he came to a stop and got out bearing a stupid grin (he seemed to always have those plastered across his face).

"Now you try!"

He took my hand and brought me closer. I was a bit curious, but what Alfred didn't know was that I was afraid of heights. Maybe I could get out of this with some type of excuse.

"Why don't you show me around the house? I'd like to get acquainted with it."

"Sure! I can show you how I decorated your room! Ooh and I can show you my room, and the kitchen and-"

He decorated my room? Now not only did I not want to swing, but I was extremely intrigued as to what the inside of the house would hold.

"Great, let's g-"

"And we'll go right after you try the swing."

Damn. Alfred was leveling me a smug look, and it seemed that he'd already figured me out. I was running out of options; I didn't want to tell some new boy I just met I had a fear of heights, but I also wasn't keen on facing up to my fears. What to do, what to do, what to d-

He shoved me into the swing. Dammit.

"I'll push you! Watch how high you go!"

I'd say 'slowly Alfred started to push me,' but that would be inaccurate; _extremely _inaccurate. As soon as he'd spoken, the blue-eyed boy had pushed me with all his might. I swung way higher than I think he intended, and when I came back down, my rear hit him and the force of the blow knocked him over. I wanted to be scared (I was clinging to the tire for dear life) but seeing Alfred topple over caused giggles to build up inside me. He wasn't hurt, but he looked so out of his element, it was hilarious.

"I'm- I'm so sorr- hehehe!"

Alfred looked up at me from the ground and immediately burst into laughter as well. There was a very evident difference between our chuckles though; while mine were quiet and reserved, Alfred's could probably be heard in the next city. After going through a giggle fit, I eventually managed to slow down and retract myself from the tire swing. I held my hand out to help Alfred up, but instead of propping himself up from the floor, he pulled me down with him.

"Twit!" I screamed as I tumbled into the dirt next to him, yet all he did in response was laugh louder. I'd been angry at first, but as I saw the smile on Alfred's face, I came to terms with myself that being the American's friend might not be that unpleasant.

It was weird: already Alfred had clearly demonstrated that he was a loud, obnoxious American, but he still somehow managed to be charismatic. Why, I don't know, but I was eager to spend more time with him.

**September 19****th****, 1940 16:15**

Mrs. Jones had not been at all surprised when Alfred and I entered the house covered in dirt in mud. Instead of chastisement, she simply chuckled and made it clear how glad she was that we'd started off on good terms.

"You boys will be best friends in no time, just watch."

After showing me the living room, dining room, and kitchen, Alfred took me to see the upper level of the house. He insisted that my room would be the final stop, because the best must be saved for last. We weren't allowed in Mrs. Jones room, so our first stop had been the library. As we entered, I was astonished to find shelves of books, stocked with articles on almost every subject imaginable. I loved to read, so this was like a dream come true.

"Pretty boring, huh? They're mostly dad's books that he's collected over time. I'm not a big fan of reading, so I'm generally only in here for school."

I paused from where I was looking at a copy of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and turned to face Alfred.

"School?"

"Sure. My mom's been homeschooling me every since we moved here. She told me that since we'd be in the same grade anyway, you'll be attending lessons too."

Oh how lovely. Mother must have conveniently forgotten to mention that I'd be schooled even while being evacuated. It didn't bother me too much, considering I was tops in my history, foreign language, and English classes, but there were parts of school I detested. I'd never quite gotten the hang of maths and science, and so at a young age, I'd lost my will to learn it.

"Yep, she generally gives me three or four lessons a day, but then we're free to do whatever!" he smiled brightly before walking back toward the door, "Now come on! I want cha to see my room!"

Again, I found myself following Alfred down the hallway of his house. When we came to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a wooden door and announced our arrival into his room.

"And here it is! The hero's super secret base!"

I was a bit confused as to why Alfred kept referring to himself as a 'hero' but I ignored it. Instead, I chose to inspect the appearance of the youngest American's room, and I was not at all surprised at what I saw.

All four walls were absolutely covered in pictures, posters and memorabilia of all shapes and sizes. On the left, there was a bright and lovely poster of New York City from the twenties. It covered a good portion of the beige wall, and I started at it in awe for a few moments. The buildings were lit, cars moving, and the people looked happy that the Great War had finally ended.

I sighed a bit, noting the irony. Nobody thought, nor wanted, the world to envelop itself in another world war, but somehow we'd managed to do it anyway.

I looked in the opposite direction and found that wall to be much more upbeat and pleasant. Hanging there was a poster of some American baseball player. I didn't know who on earth it was, but he was smiling and looked truly happy. Surrounding the poster, Alfred had tapped down all his favorite baseball cards. Each one was a different color, and featured a different player. I didn't understand any of the statistics listed under the player's names, but I smiled thinking that Alfred must have loved to play this game back in the states.

Again I glanced around and this time cringed at what I saw.

At looking above Alfred's bed, I was met with the glower from an austere and very patriotic man. He was pointing toward me, brows furrowed, and saying that he wanted _me _for the U.S. Army. I shivered and turned my gaze away, as memories of the war flooded back into my brain. The poster may have been from a different generation, but it was war all the same. People we're dying. Cities were devastated. Children we're separated from their mothe-

"Pretty sweet huh?"

I gasped as Alfred placed a hand on my shoulder. For a moment I'd forgotten he was there and that hand, it reminded me of-

_I think mother could tell I was not at all thrilled because she put a comforting hand on my shoulder and leaned down to match my gaze._

_"Everything will be alright Arthur. You'll have someone to… bond and grow up with. Promise… Promise me you'll try to make a friend."_

My lips quivered at that memory and I quickly turned away to hide my shame. I didn't want Alfred to see me cry. That would be weak, a-and Alfred wouldn't want to be friends with someone like that.

"Arthur are you ok?"

He came around to face me, and I wiped my eyes quickly trying to pull myself together.

"_Come on Arthur. Do this for mum. Don't lose Alfred's friendship just because you're an emotional wreck."_

"Oh uh yeah, I'm fine," I said sniffling, "Just that poster reminded me of something."

Alfred glanced between Uncle Sam and me and frowned. He looked concerned, and before I knew what was happening, he came up and hugged me. My breath hitched and I didn't know how to respond. He was being so kind, and I was being so… pathetic.

Slowly he pulled away and led me out of the room. He closed the door gently and checked to see how I was doing.

"Sorry. I should've known you that you wouldn't be real fond of war stuff. That was my bad."

I looked up at him, wiping my eyes again and quickly tried to regain my composure as if nothing had happened.

"No, no it's alright," I paused thinking of something to say to salvage my manliness and seem like less of a pansy, "So you like the American army? That's cool…"

Alfred grinned at me, happy that I was beginning to recover.

"Yeah! I wanted to join after high school, but mom would never let me. Plus since I'm kinda stuck in Britain, I'd have to go back to America to receive training, so it's virtually impossible."

I punched him lightly in the shoulder, and smiled as well.

"What a shame, you can't go out there and get yourself killed like all the others."

He laughed and then changed the topic once again.

"Come on, you still haven't seen your room! I know you're gonna love it!"

I rolled my eyes at his incorrect grammar, but started to follow all the same.

"Going to, idiot."

His laughter bellowed, and after walking just a few steps, we were apparently at the entrance to my room. Alfred beamed stupidly as he stopped in front of the door and spread his arms so I couldn't possibly get in.

"Ok. Are you ready for the most awesome room you have ever seen in the history of forever?"

I crossed my arms and nodded, pretending I wasn't at all eager to see what lay beyond the door.

"Do your worst."

He stuck out his tongue, smiled, and then after a dramatic pause, flung open the door. I stepped in, and as soon as looked up I froze. Again, the walls of my room had been decorated with posters, pictures and other things Alfred must have collected. There was a small twin bed for me, nicely made with a bright green duvet, which lay in the corner. Above my bed, someone had hung a Union Jack that covered half the wall. I smiled despite myself and continued to get a better feel for my room.

In the corner was a wardrobe, and I noticed that Mrs. Jones had placed my bag right beside it. To the right of that was a small wooden desk and a matching chair. There was some paper, pencils and envelopes already laid out, and I imagined that either Alfred or Mrs. Jones had been kind enough to place them there so I might write home to my mother.

I moved along and came to the opposite wall, which really made me smile. In the center there was a collage of postcards; all with different scenes of London on them. I saw ones with Tower Bridge, Parliament, the Thames, Trafalgar Square, and those were just the few that caught my eyes. There must have been at least 50 different postcards on the wall. I looked back at Alfred genuinely happy and smiled.

"Thank you. It's lovely… You didn't have to do all this Alfred, taking me in was enough. You're much too kind."

Alfred beamed, but shrugged simultaneously. If he was trying to mask his joy by looking casual, he was failing miserably.

"It was nothing. My dad brought the flag home from the embassy one day, and he's been sending me those postcards since we moved here."

I ogled my eyes at him confused.

"Oh mom must have not told you. Since my dad works at the embassy in London, he only comes down on vacation, or for the holidays. Otherwise he has his own apartment in the city."

"Ah," I nodded my head in understanding, "Well I'm sorry you don't get to see your father much. I imagine he's quite busy dealing with America's interaction with the war."

"Yeah it's hard," he frowned for a fraction of a second, but then instantaneously transformed it into a smile, "But you're here now! I have someone to talk to about guy stuff!"

A light blush dusted my cheeks at that statement. Guy stuff? What the hell did that mean?

"Uh haha… yeah," wow I suck at being casual.

Alfred showed me his pearly whites, but as he did, I was distracted by something in my peripheral view. Behind Alfred, was not only my bed, but also a bed side table. Of course, that's not what caught my attention, but rather what was on the small piece of furniture.

I kindly walked around the American and picked up the envelope that had my name on it. It wasn't addressed, nor did it have a stamp, so I knew it couldn't have come from my mother.

"Oh yeah… Dad wrote that last time he was here cuz he knew you were coming. I wasn't allowed to read it so I have no Idea what it says."

"Do you mind if I open it?"

Alfred shook his head in the negative, so I took a seat on the edge of the bed, and ripped the seal of the envelope. I removed the letter and started to read.

"_Dear Arthur,_

_First, let me start off by saying, I apologize that we could not have done this introduction in person. While I've seen you before, I don't believe we've ever actually met. Well pleased to meet you. I'm ecstatic that you'll be joining us for a time, and I truly hope you enjoy your stay here. I'm sure my wife and Alfred will come to treat you like family, and hopefully you'll come to see us like that as well. I know that Alfred specifically is dying to meet you, and I can't say I'm not excited either. Perhaps the two of you will be great friends like your father and I. Please relax, and do try to feel at home. I look forward to meeting you around Christmas time._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Jones"_

Why was it that the whole Jones family was so keen on me befriending Alfred? Not that I could argue; I had already grown fond of the boy. Well only time will tell, I suppose.

"Boys! Dinner is ready!"

The two of us looked toward the door as Mrs. Jones beckoned us from the kitchen. Alfred's eyes were bursting with anticipation, and I thought it was funny just how excited he got over food.

"Come on! This is gonna be great!"

I followed him down the stairs, and the smell of something delicious entered my nose. Maybe this would be great; and I don't just mean the nosh.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: Fan art has been done for this story :D *Is super excited* Please check out the link in my profile and give the artist some well deserved recognition! Other than that... sorry for the long-arse wait on this chapter. Hope ya like it!**

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_"22-9-40_

_Dear Mum, _

_ Before I jump into a story on my reception and how I've been doing, the first thing I want to say is that I miss you. As much as I like it here, the only place I really want to be right now is at home, with you. I could keep you company mum and I could keep you safe the way daddy would want… I really miss you and I can't wait until this bloody war is over so I can come back to London and see you again… but… until then… I suppose I'm stuck here in the country. _

_ Alright I'd say that's enough grief for one letter. Please don't think that first part was too misleading because honestly, I am doing fine living with the Jones'. Things over here are pleasant. The scenery in the countryside is absolutely beautiful. Everywhere you look it seems to be a view from a lovely painting, and yet somehow it is all real, right there in front of you. But of course I'm sure rolling hills are the least of your worries, aren't they mum? Yes, the Jones family has been kind to me; in fact kind would be an understatement. Mrs. Jones has come to treat me like one of her own, and I'm slowly warming up to Alfred who is the living definition of the word nice. I've yet to actually meet Mr. Jones, but he should be visiting around Christmas time. Sometimes I wonder when we'll spend Christmas together again, all of us together like when dad was around. Maybe next time the Jones' can join us, and you could meet Alfred. He's a bundle of energy, but I think that just makes him more charismatic and fun. Yes, when this war is over I'll come back and we'll spend the holiday together. You'll meet Alfred and I'll never ever leave you again. Just wait till that day mummy, but while you wait, feel good knowing that I've started to make a friend._

_ All my love,_

_ Arthur"_

**October 4****th****, 1940 11:00**

"I thought you said you knew how to play."

"I said I knew how to play cricket, not this sad excuse for a game."

"Arthur, they're the same thing!"

"Are not! Cricket is refined and makes sense! Baseball is… ugh!"

Alfred sighed, conceding defeat before he dropped his baseball glove and promptly ran back to the house. I lowered the bat from where I'd had it in what the American deemed "a proper batting position" and watched him go. I wondered where the silly boy had run off to now, but never once did I question whether he'd come back.

Ever since I'd arrived, Alfred had stuck to me like glue. Every waking second of the day we'd be doing something together; playing, eating, reading, (which was rather hard to get Alfred to do) you name it. From what I'd already collected on the American, I knew that since he'd moved to England, Alfred almost never had the chance to interact with anyone his age. The fact that he was homeschooled, houses were so far from each other, and his lack of any friend's the area probably led to why acted like a child with a new toy around me. I was fresh canvas on which he could paint whatever picture he wanted. I was a differentiation from what he'd known (or hadn't known) for so long. I was his _friend, _and now as he left me alone in the backyard, I knew he'd back with something new to do, never to be bored with me.

"How's about we play soccer?"

I spun around to find Alfred coming out from the back of our home. _Our_ home. I liked that.

Alfred was dribbling a football, feet moving in quick and fluid motions to keep the object in motion. When he got within a foot of me, the boy abruptly stopped, and then kicked the ball high into the air. When gravity reclaimed it, I threw my hands out to catch the football in my arms. A scowl set over my features as I clutched onto it, and lightly kicked Alfred in his shin.

"Only yanks call it soccer."

The boy cracked a smile before folding his arms and presenting a bogus pout.

"How rude! Calling me a yank. Maybe you should be a bit nicer to your host."

He put his hands on his hips but then stuck out his tongue, immediately losing any force of intimidation he'd hoped to have.

I smiled and released the ball from my grip, allowing it to drop back down to earth. When it hit the grassy floor beneath my feet, I raised a leg and kicked the ball right over Alfred's head and across the field. He regarded me with a look of shock for a moment, before the message of a challenge was exchanged between us.

"You're on yank," I said playfully as I ran after the ball, Alfred right on my tail.

We played for a good while, not even the late afternoon drizzle that started to fall could stop our fun. In fact I think the two of us welcomed the rain that day; it washed away the sweat and dirt that had accumulated on our bodies.

"Hey Artie," I suddenly heard from behind me as I'd started to tire. I whirled around to stare at my friend. "Watch this!"

Alfred, about 50 feet away and in possession of the ball, started dribbling right toward me. When he neared around the 20 point marker he drew his leg back, with what I assumed to be the intention of kicking the ball sky high. Of course… Alfred was never any good with aim… and I felt the blood start to gush from my nose as I fell backwards.

"Arthur!" I heard Alfred yell as he ran toward me panicked. He bent down, and tilted my head back in an effort to get the blood to stop flowing. The last thing I remember seeing were two endless pools of blue sky watching over me.

"You have pretty eyes…" I murmured; and then darkness took over.

**October 4****th****, 1940 14:25**

_Da Dump_

_Da Dump_

_Da Dump_

The first thing I noticed when I was roused from sleep was the pain. I twitched immediately at the sudden throbbing rhythm that made itself known within my head. _Damn…_ I was conscious now and that meant facing the pain that sweet darkness and serenity had tucked away.

"Ugh…" was the only intelligible thing I could say as I weakly lifted a hand to comfort my achy head. Slowly I blinked my eyes open, and a sea of blurry objects came into play. When the fog cleared and I was once again able to decipher the matter in front of me I blinked a few more times. Wait a second… I was in my room… What had happened?

Just as the gears in my brain had started to turn, a creaking sound was emitted from the door to my still fairly new room. The barrier now ajar, I could see one sky-blue eye peeping in and I didn't fail to notice how it widened excitedly upon contact with me. The owner of that piece of sky almost tore the door off its hinges as he ran toward me.

"Arthur!" the boy practically yelled, and I winced at the sudden loud noise. That, in addition to the pulsing in my head, was treating me none to kind. I eased my eyes back open when I felt my bed dip as a new burden was placed on top of it. Alfred had taken root at the base of my bed and was now staring at me intently. For I moment I was confused as to how his attitude had shifted so abruptly, but I soon realised he must have noticed my cringing when he entered; that and the fact that I was still cradling my head.

"You okay?" He asked, and I could swear that his voice cracked under some unknown pressure. I soon let go of my captive skull and glanced up at my assessor, who met my emerald eyes concerned and attempted to smile softly.

"What happened?..." I questioned slightly embarrassed that my thoughts were still a bit hazy. The only thing I could really recall was a vivid memory of blue sky. Why was that?

Alfred cocked his head to the side and blinked. I blushed a bit and turned my head away, still not totally comfortable with the boy, and definitely not comfortable with him scrutinizing me so intently. I studied a loose thread on my duvet but when I felt the weight on my mattress shift yet again, I glanced back up. Moments after I did that I realised I shouldn't have. Alfred was in front of me, or more like crawling over my body, to inspect my face. I chocked on the air in my lungs as he rested his forehead against mine and held a hand up to my cheek.

I closed my eyes and willed for my blush to die down. Why was I acting like this anyway? Sure our position was a bit awkward, but Alfred meant well… he wasn't trying to do anything. He's just the touchy-feely type I told myself. N-nothing more! It's not like… It's not like…

Alfred moved his head back a bit, and the hand that had been stationed on my piping hot cheekbone moved up to rest against my forehead. I sighed and opened my eyes feeling the situation was a bit more bearable now, as my mother used to do the exact same thing to me when I was ill. After a moment with his palm against the warmth of my skull, he leaned back and found my gaze once again.

"You really don't remember?" he asked softly, and I simply shook my head.

"Ah… ok well we were playing soccer," I managed a glare through my pain and Alfred smiled weakly, "I mean we were playing _football_ and I kicked the ball and… and…" Alfred derailed but I didn't prod him to go further. There was no need for him to finish, for with the small mental aide, memories flooded back and I once again recaptured my head that was now working on overdrive. Alfred frowned at this and started up again.

"You hit your head pretty hard…" a hiatus, "And now you're really hot."

He touched the back of his palm to my head again as if to emphasize his point.

I flushed yet _again_ and started to wonder if that was actually the cause of the heat in my face. Perhaps it was just Alfred's awkward ministrations that were spiking my temperature and making my mind think crazy things… I batted his hand away, hoping my hypothesis would be correct.

"I'm fine really," I tried to confirm, but it was evident that my voice was not the least bit reassuring. I looked away from puzzled blue eyes after seeing what looked like a wisp of hurt flash through them. Focusing my attention on the walls of my bedroom something dawned on me, and I peeked back at Alfred who seemed to have fully recovered.

"Wait… how did… how did I get back inside?"

"Oh!" Alfred exclaimed almost proudly, "I carried you in. After the blood stopped of course. Mom would kill me if I got that on the carpet."

He flashed a thumbs up and a grin so bright it could rival the sun. At first I was a bit embarrassed over the fact that Alfred had manhandled me, but there was little I could do from letting my lips curl upwards and emitting a soft chuckle at Alfred's explanation.

"Well… thank you…" I murmured quietly and suddenly I was wrapped in a hug. My eyes widened a moment but then I calmed myself and hugged the boy back. This wasn't supposed to be awkward, Alfred was my friend. I soothed my racing heart, and just as I'd started to relax in his arms, the American pulled away.

"I'm gonna go tell mom you're up. She totally freaked out on me when she saw you unconscious."

My bed groaned as the boy pulled up his weight and walked toward the door. Just as Alfred took hold of the handle he turned back to me sending an idiotic but somewhat sly looking grin.

"So I have nice eyes?" he smirked.

My pillow slammed against the closing door just a moment too late.

**October 27****th****, 1940 20:00**

After that mildly gauche hug with Alfred, I started to cast off my inhabitations and let the walls I usually built around myself quickly fall down. I'd never really had a friend like this before and I was eager to see where it would take me, or rather where it would take us.

As the roots of our friendship grew deeper, Alfred started to tell me more about himself and his history. I loved to learn more about the lad (apparently he can play piano, I'll believe it when I see it) and I especially loved hearing about what his life was like before me and before this bloody war.

"And this is me when we took a family vacation to New York," Alfred said as he handed me a snapshot of a young boy standing in front of the Statue of Liberty. We'd been going through a shoe box full of photos from America for almost two hours now, and there seemed to be no shortage of memories for the chap to evoke. I took the picture gently by its sides, ensuring not to get my fingerprints on it.

"I didn't realize it was that big," was my erudite critique of the photo. I examined the picture in my hands and noticed that Alfred was a tiny dot, as compared to the massive sculpture.

"Oh yeah it's amazing," the boy smiled. "I made sure to take tons of pictures because it was so awesome."

My eyes snapped open wider, and I maneuvered my gaze back from the image, to real-life version of the American sitting beside me.

"You like photography?" I asked a bit tentatively, but also genuinely curious.

He smiled, and bobbed his head up and down eagerly.

"Sure! I mean a picture captures a memory forever ya know? What's cooler than that?"

I thought about it a few minutes, a pensive look crossing my features as I contemplated Alfred's question. Eventually I realized I didn't have an answer, but something else dawned on me.

"I have a camera. It's one of the few things I thought to bring with me."

Alfred's orbs doubled, then tripled in size, and I mentally gave myself a pat on the back. Without another word I was up the stairs digging through my bag for the contraption.

"Where are you?..." I half mumbled to myself as continued to rummage around. Finally I found my camera, and upon pulling the thing out, I noticed another object came with it.

"A locket?" I heard Alfred ask, as he bent down to retrieve the silver chain and pendant that had fallen to the floor. I hadn't noticed that he followed me upstairs.

"Uh… yeah… My mum gave it to me… before I left."

Alfred's mouth formed an 'o' and he turned the necklace over in his hand to examine it carefully. I smiled a bit as he handled the chain like a priceless vase worth thousands of pounds. He might be loud and rambunctious at times, but Alfred could also be remarkably sweet and delicate.

"Do you mind if I open it?"

I thought about this for a fraction of a second. All that was in the small heart was a picture of my mother and father on their wedding day; a picture that should be harmless enough.

"Sure go ahead."

Alfred lightly fingered the jewelry and cracked open the locket. As he did, we both observed as something fell out and feathered to the floor. The blue-eyed boy panicked before realising it was just a scrap of paper.

"Oh I thought I broke it for a second," Alfred half-laughed as he handed me the note. I was a bit confused, and before I opened up the letter I glanced back at the item in Alfred's hand.

"There's nothing in there…" I said looking perplexed, and the other boy just mimicked my look.

"Was there suppose to be?" he asked a bit concerned.

"W-well it was my mother's, and I do recall there being a picture of my parent's wedding day…"

"Hmm… why don't you read the note. Maybe that'll explain it?"

For once Alfred had come up with a decent idea, and I nodded, unfolding the piece of paper. It was crinkled, and a bit worn, but I immediately recognized my mother's scripture.

"_This locket belongs to you now Arthur. Fill it with your own memories of the one you love._

_ -Mum"_

Mixed feelings flowed through me after reading that: Sadness, at the remembrance that my mother was not there. Joy, at knowing that my mother believed in me and knew I would find someone. And Fear, at the realization that I was really on my own. I smiled a bit and wiped my eyes.

"What's it say?" Alfred asked suddenly interested.

I glanced back up, a bit embarrassed I'd forgotten the boy was even there. He looked a bit bemused and I simply smiled at him, as I gently took the necklace from his hand.

"It says I should make my own memories," I said as I tucked the locket back into my bag, and replaced the emptiness in the boys hand with my camera. He beamed at me, and I couldn't help but return it.

"Well then let's make some," he said with tender grin, as he took my hand leading me down the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later we were out of film.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Enjoy :) **

**A/N: If there's any historical inaccuracy let me know! Also, Thanksgiving varies slightly depending on the family so it might be slightly different than what one's used to. Enjoy!**

**A/N 2: I am SO SORRY for the technical difficulties and all the annoying emails you must have received! Thank you for sticking with me! :)  
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**November 5****th****, 1940 19:20**

"What do you mean you've never heard of Guy Fawkes Night?"

Alfred only chortled and waved a hand dismissively.

"Seriously Artie, stop saying that! It sounds like you're cursing."

A scowl embedded itself across my features, but the more I thought about it, the more my lips curved upwards. I'd been living with Alfred close to two months now, and I no longer questioned our friendship; … or his vulgarity.

"Fawkes, Fawkes, Fawkes!"

"Arthur Kirkland!" Alfred yelled in mock-seriousness before the two of us burst out laughing.

We walked into the dining room together, finishing up chuckling as we took our seats for dinner. On my first night here Alfred had insisted I sit next to him, regardless of the fact that the square wooden table was clearly meant for one person per side. Mrs. Jones had only laughed and said, "See Arthur? He really does want to get close to you!" I'd blushed, knowing what she meant, but also picking up on the unintentional insinuation in the statement.

I sat down next to Alfred on our side of the table, barely having enough room for the two of us. He smiled at me and just as I was about to return it, Mrs. Jones entered the room carrying a large pot of roast.

"Now what were you two boys laughing about?" she questioned as she laid the pot of food in front of our hungry eyes.

"Arthur was yelling at me for not knowing what Guy Fawkes Night is."

"I wasn't yelling!"

"Were to!"

Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes and went back into the kitchen to retrieve some last additions to our small dinner. When she was out of earshot I turned to Alfred and whispered hotly in his ear.

"_Fawke you."_

A grin emanated from his lips, and for the umpteenth time that day, we burst into giggles. Mrs. Jones came back and set down a bowl of green peas and a small loaf of bread. She smiled and sat down in the chair opposite us.

I gawped at the delicious looking meal in front of us. Roast beef with potatoes, peas and some fresh baked bread. It wasn't often that we could eat like this (what with rations and all), but Mrs. Jones insisted on having a 'proper' meal at least once a month.

"Mom this looks great! Can we start?" I could see Alfred's mouth watering, and his enthusiasm was not inconspicuous in the slightest.

"Of course! Dig in everyone."

Alfred grabbed at the bread, and since there was no butter (there had been a ration on that since almost the beginning of the war), he mopped up some gravy from the roast beef. The boy had awful table manners and Mrs. Jones chided him as he sat back down. Alfred started tearing into his meat like an animal, but I was yet to touch anything. Mrs. Jones seemed to notice this, and glanced at me a bit concerned.

"Something wrong Arthur?"

Quickly I shook my head in the negative to assure her I was fine.

"Oh, no. I just wanted to thank you before I started eating."

She beamed at me and I saw Alfred stop mid chew with gravy dribbling down his chin.

"So thank you…" I said, and with his mouth full Alfred seconded the motion.

I served myself, and almost immediately proceeding, Alfred leapt for seconds. How that boy lived on the rations we had I would never understand.

"So Arthur," Mrs. Jones started. "You were telling Alfred about Guy Fawkes Night?"

"Yelling," the blue-eyed boy interrupted surreptitiously.

I glared at him, but quickly had to bite my lip at noticing the sauce still clinging to his chin. For some reason I had the urge to take a napkin and wipe his face… no that was weird. I turned my gaze back at my guardian to answer her question before I had the chance to do something stupid.

"Uh yes… But I never actually got around to explaining it."

"Well do continue. It'll be good for the boy to know something about British culture."

I turned to Alfred, and all of a sudden he was looking at me intently. I blushed a bit under the scrutiny, but also noticed that he'd wiped his face in the small window of opportunity he'd had. I smiled and started to explain the basics.

"Okay well… in Great Britain Guy Fawkes Night, or Bonfire Night as some call it, is celebrated on the 5th of November. We do it to remember how the gunpowder plot failed, and how King James I survived the assassination attempt."

I took in a breath, and finished up my story.

"Now a days, people usually light bonfires and watch firework displays in remembrance."

Alfred looked up at me immediately in question.

"Fireworks? Like on my birthday?"

I answered with a perplexed look.

"I mean the fourth of July! The day I graced the world with my presence also happens to be Independence Day." He smiled lopsidedly, and I simply rolled my eyes.

"Well, I've never been to America so I wouldn't know much about that."

"Oh! Well on the Fourth of July, tons of people shoot of fireworks to celebrate-"

I think that's about when Alfred realised he'd made a mistake.

"There's also plenty of other holidays celebrated in America but not in the United Kingdom," Mrs. Jones casually interrupted. I wasn't mad at Alfred for bringing up the fact that my country had lost a war (It was almost 200 years already… and honestly, I don't think any Briton could hold a grudge that long), but I surely didn't want to get into an argument over which nation was 'better.' "Have you ever heard of Thanksgiving, Arthur?"

I thought about this a moment, knowing I'd read a brief summary of the holiday in some book or another, but probably didn't know enough to go into detail.

"I do believe I know the fundamentals, but I've never actually experienced the holiday."

Alfred made a face like he'd seen a ghost, and Mrs. Jones smiled at her son's ministrations.

"Well then I suppose this will be your first Thanksgiving."

**November 26****th****, 1940 11:10**

To my horror, ever since the fifth of November, Alfred had not shut up about Thanksgiving. Every five seconds I was given another reason why the holiday was amazing; from the food, to the family gathering, and then because it was Alfred, back to the food. Since I'd learnt of the holiday, the American also felt the need to pester me with blatant questions, making the United Kingdom seem like a foreign planet.

"Have you ever had turkey?"

"Have you ever seen a turkey?"

"Do you even know what a turkey is?"

"Yes Alfred!" I shouted as half the people in the market turned to look at me. "I bloody well know what a turkey is!"

Alfred smirked, and grabbed my hand as he yanked me down another aisle. It was currently two days before said holiday and Mrs. Jones had brought us to the grocer to help with the shopping.

"Can you cook?" Alfred asked out of nowhere.

I frowned for a moment averting my eyes to the ground. I'd known I couldn't cook since about three years ago when I'd almost set the house ablaze while trying to make my mother breakfast. She'd never let me touch the stove again.

"The extent of my cooking skills is preparing a bowl of weetabix…" I mumbled tentatively, and Alfred smiled.

"Well that's alright! I can teach you. Mom always lets me help with Thanksgiving dinner."

I looked up at the boy's smiling face, and couldn't smother my own need to grin. He squeezed my hand, and continued walking, but at that moment I felt my heart speed forward. I don't know what possessed me, but I squeezed back, and together we walked toward the potatoes we were assigned to collect.

**November 28****th****, 1940 15:45**

"Arthur, I can't believe you failed at mashing potatoes!" Alfred chuckled as he sat down next to me on the couch after Mrs. Jones had banned us from the kitchen. Not because I'd burnt anything, no of course not; rather because Alfred and I had… had a little mishap.

"_Okay Artie, look. All ya do is take the masher and push down really hard!"_

"_What do you take me for Alfred? Really I think I know ho-"_

_ The boy snickered and I glared up at him._

"_What's so funny?"_

"_N-nothing!" Alfred said with a grin, clearly trying to hide some stupid thought._

"_What is it, git?"_

"_N-nothing A-Art!"_

_ I rolled my eyes and picked up the tool used to mash the potatoes. As soon as I lifted my weapon into the air, Alfred deemed it okay to answer my previous question._

"_I… hehe… I was just wondering, ya know…" he paused to snicker, "… if you can handle mashing potatoes with such a scrawny body!"_

_ My first reaction was to glare, my emerald eyes suddenly full of hatred. Of course there was that other minor self conscious response, but I ignored that in favor of vindicating my pride._

"_Wanker!" I yelled, and ran at him with the masher._

_ Alfred grinned like the devil he was and grabbed the two nearest utensils to him: an oven mit and a sifter. He put the mit on his right hand and held the colander up as defense._

"_On guard!" he shouted._

_ We went at each other, and immediately my anger dissipated. Why was I angry? I couldn't even remember. All that seemed to matter was here and now; being with Alfred, and having fun._

_In my little daze, the American had come at me and knocked the masher from my hand. I looked up at him and glowered, now completely defenseless._

"_Touche!" I howled, before I pounced on Alfred, knocking us both to the ground. It reminded me quite a bit of my first day, when the two of us had been rolling around in the dirt._

"_Ah, no way!" Alfred threw his strainer to the side, and took hold of my forearm and waist, flipping our positions and managing to get the upper hand. I smiled devilishly, having completely anticipated that move._

"_Look, Alfred! A giant talking hamburger!" _

_ The boy instantaneously turned his head, and the moment he was distracted, I swapped our positions yet again and started tickling his sides. Alfred shrieked, and took hold of my waist while beginning me to stop._

"_Hehehehe! Artie! He… St-stop!"_

"_Admit defeat to the British Empire!"_

"_N-never hehehe!"_

_ Just then Alfred dug his fingernails into my side and I winced. Even though he had the oven mit on one hand, I could still feel his unyielding grip. He took that opportunity to push me off, and again pin me down. I started to struggle, but this time the boy had a good grip on me. Relenting, I looked up to find a devious glint in his eyes._

"_For the second time in history America has kicked Britain's butt."_

"_Bloody idiot…" I hissed under my breath, but stopped halfway when I felt something on my skin. Alfred had moved closer and was nuzzling my neck. His hair tickled my cheek, and my face flushed at the contact. He pulled away and I stared at him with baffled eyes._

"_Ah you know I'm just kidding, right Arthur?" He smiled at me… and I felt something strange… something warm and whimsical that had started to show itself every once in awhile. I willed away the blush and warmth, and nodded at Alfred, just as Mrs. Jones walked into the kitchen._

"_What are you two up to?"_

_ Alfred sprang up, and held out his hand which I took graciously. Why did his hand feel so hot and sweaty all of a sudden?_

"_Nothing! Just making mashed potatoes madam!" Alfred saluted with his oven mit clad hand._

_ Mrs. Jones looked around the kitchen, finding disorder of scattered utensils and completely… un-smashed potatoes. She shook her head and started to push the two of us from the room._

"_You boys…" she sighed smiling. "You've been more than enough help. Just skedaddle and entertain yourselves for a few more hours. I'll call you when dinner's ready."_

"_Sure, mom!"_

"_Yes, Mrs. Jones." _

_And we left the room._

"Maybe I would have been able to mash them if you hadn't started to tease me about it."

"What are friends for, Artie?" he replied with a riposte and a smile.

I mulled it over and decided that while I wasn't a hundred percent sure of Alfred's reasoning, I was entirely certain of my increasing affection toward him.

**November 28****th****, 1940 19:00**

"Boys! Dinner's rea-" Mrs. Jones didn't even have the chance to finish her sentence as Alfred darted past her, moving like the Germans were behind him. I grinned and followed casually; taking my seat as the boy next to me bounced up and down, his mouth agape and slightly drooling. His golden locks were bobbing up and down as he moved incessantly, making me giggle and I took on a motherly role, deciding to reprimand him.

"Alfred… table manners, please?"

He spared me only a moment's glance before cocking his head to the left as his mother walked through the archway of the kitchen and dining room, carrying the most delicious thing I'd ever seen. I followed his eyes and saw for the first time, the main attraction of Thanksgiving dinner. Dressed in roasted potatoes, cranberry stuffing and glazed carrots, I felt a wave of hypocrisy flow over me as saliva trickled down my chin. I'd had turkey before, surely, but nothing like this. The bird (small as it was on rations) seemed one of the most delectable things I'd ever seen in my life. Perhaps this was because it was wartime, and we almost never ate properly, but I'm more inclined to believe it's for other reasons. Since my time here began I'd discovered that Mrs. Jones was an absolutely magnificent cook. Her cuisine trounced my mother's, but I'd never tell her that!

Mrs. Jones smiled, clearly pleased with the reaction I was eliciting and turned on her heels.

"I'll be right back. Alfred, you so much as touch that bird and I'll have the Krauts after you."

I snickered at the joke and Alfred pouted, turning toward me.

"S'look good?"

I nodded repeatedly, trying to communicate that was an understatement.

"Alfred, it looks splendid. I can't wait to try it."

Said boy smiled at me, and contentment seemed to dance in his eyes. Alfred was always a happy one, but I hadn't seen that look since he fell on his arse almost two months ago. Wow… already two months had gone by, yet it felt like only yesterday I met Alfred. I smiled to myself, and my cheeks dusted pink as I recounted some of our adventures with my new, scratch that, my only, no I don't like that either; my best friend.

"Whatcha smiling about?" Alfred nudged me with his elbow, that blinding grin never leaving his face.

If possible, my lips quirked up farther and I transferred my gaze from the Alfred, to the floor and back again. Contemplating what to say was a little hard while being distracted by his ever so _nice_ eyes.

"Thank you Alfred…"

"…_for being such a wonderful and supportive friend." _My mind supplied as my voice trailed off.

"Shhhh! Artie you're doing it wrong! At our house, we don't say what we're thankful for until _after_ the food's been served!"

I smiled and looked away. Alfred with his food; I should have known.

"Gravy train coming through!"

Glancing back upwards, I noticed Mrs. Jones had returned, somehow managing to carry a bowl of cranberry sauce, one of mashed potatoes and a gravy boat all in one go. She set each item down on its assigned salver and took her seat across from us.

"Well Arthur you're in for a treat. It seems Al left some food for the rest of us."

"Mom!" Alfred cried in a huff, and I joined in as his mother chuckled.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Mrs. Jones quelled her giggles long enough to smile at the two us. "Now today is very special; it's Arthur's first Thanksgiving, and I want it to be the best darn Thanksgiving he ever has!"

I blushed a bit, while being the sole focus of attention and the two member of the Jones family beamed brighter.

"I hope you like everything Arthur," Mrs. Jones anticipated. "It's such a thrill to actually have a guest for Thanksgiving again. I can't remember the last time we welcomed someone for the holi-"

"Mom, cut the turkey already!"

I scowled at Alfred for his insolence, but his mother simply waved it off as normal. She picked up the knife and with tremendous poise, started to slice meat from the bone.

"I want the leg!" Alfred announced gallingly, to which his mother sighed and responded, "Guests first Alfred. What would you like Arthur?"

"Anything's fine madam."

"Nonsense! This is a time for celebration, Arthur, not a time for modesty! It's a time to-"

"Eat…" Alfred casually interrupted, before daggers were sent his way. He sunk down a bit into his chair.

"It's a time to be thankful… sweetheart."

I looked up at her and saw a sincere guise on her face. Mrs. Jones was such a nice… kind woman… And now she was insistent on treating me as if I were one of her own.

"Thank you, madam," I squeaked a bit womanly. "I'll have some of the breast meat."

Alfred snickered, and I did my best to suppress the flush rising to my cheeks. She cut a slice from the luscious bird, and piled my plate high with all sorts of remarkable delicacies. I thanked her as she handed me the ample plate, and moved on to Alfred. When everyone had been served, she sat back down eyeing her son as his eyes widened almost to the size of his inexhaustible stomach.

"Alright, now that everyone's been served we can go around the table and express our thanks." She turned her gaze on me and continued. "Would you like to go first Arthur?"

Being new to this holiday, in addition to still being just the slightest bit timid kept me from nodding my head in affirmation. It was no problem though, as Mrs. Jones quickly took over.

"That's fine! I'll start." She initiated, and then paused to ponder what she was truly grateful for. After a mild hiatus she inhaled sharply and began.

"I'm thankful first of all, for having all this wonderful food during a time of such suffering. I'm grateful to have such a wonderful son and husband," I caught Alfred's blush as she smiled at him, "And I'm also grateful for the chance to have met you Arthur. It may not be under the most pristine circumstances, but you're a marvelous young lad and I know you're something special."

I smiled sheepishly but refused to allow myself to go red in the face.

"Thank you Mrs. Jones. That was very… kind of you."

"It's all from the heart, Arthur. Who'd like to go next?"

"Me, me, me!" Alfred announced as his hand shot into the air. Before his mother even had the chance to recognize him, Alfred was already halfway though his list of obliged objects and services.

"And I'm grateful for all the baseball cards I got this year, and I'm grateful for all the mail I get from dad, and I'm thankful for the fact that mom can cook, unlike Arthur."

He spared me a glance, and smile; the scowl on my features, quickly dissipating to nothingness. When I caught a slight hue on his cheeks, I became curious, and I focused my emerald orbs on the pieces of blue sky that were directed right at me.

"But most of all… I'm grateful for having made a best friend this year. The thing I'm most thankful for is meeting Arthur Kirkland."

And that was it. While my mind started spinning at a mile a minute, Alfred just went back to drooling over the contents of his plate. I started at him in awe, my cheeks now completely aglow, meanwhile completely missing what Mrs. Jones had to say.

"Well that was sweet, Alfred," she nodded her approval at him and then glanced back to me. "Would you like to take your turn now Arthur?"

This time I did manage to nod my assent, and I opened my mouth absently before speaking. What did I want to say? Was there really much to be thankful for at a time like this? Soldiers were dying… mother was alone, how could I be appreciative of anyth-

But then I knew. With my mouth still agape, Alfred had winked at me, a comforting gesture to acknowledge he was listening. I wasn't grateful for this war for certain, but perhaps there would be at least one good thing to come out of it.

"The war is surely one thing I am not grateful for this year…" I lingered just a moment, allowing the words to flow from my brain to my tongue. "But if there is just one thing that went right… it would no doubt be meeting Alfred F. Jones."


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing including works that are alluded to. Rights go to the respected owners.**

A/N: Not much to say this time around. Thank you so much for your continued support with this story. All the reviews, favourites, etc. mean the world to me! Enjoy :)

* * *

**December 18th, 1940 14:30**

"Alright boys, settle down please. I know how much you love insulting each other in foreign tongues but we still need to get one more small lesson in today."

I looked up at my best friend's mother, who also happened to be my instructor. Smiling politely, I glanced from her back to the lad beside me.

"Désolé madame. Alfred ne peut s'empêcher que c'est un idiot."

His mother chuckled lightly, and Alfred paused from where he'd been poking my side with the rubber on his pencil. He gaped at me confused, and when I offered no assistance, started scouring his French-to-English dictionary for a translation. Mrs. Jones and I exchanged a smile and gave Alfred a few minutes to decode my charming message.

"Hey!" he suddenly snapped, resuming his poking pattern on my ribs. It tickled a bit through my cotton shirt, but I refused to let Alfred in on that.

"What?" I asked in an innocent tone, as Alfred's eyes watched me warily, "All I said was that you're best friend I've ever had."

The boy's cheeks became tinged with pink, and for a moment I thought I'd said something wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, but was shortly cut off by the sound of his mother's voice.

"Alright boys. No more bickering now. Al, Arthur was just having a little fun with you. It's harmless really." She grinned at her son, and pat him on the shoulder as she walked past him toward a book shelf in the southernmost part of the library. I squinted to read the title as she chose a leather bound book from a shelf that looked rather old and dusty. Alfred could be heard sighing next to me, and as I turned to face him, he lightly elbowed my ribs.

"How much you wanna bet it's another piece of ancient crap?" He said whilst slumping his shoulders. I wanted to answer him, tell him that old works of literature weren't "ancient crap" but I opted to keep my mouth shut, rather than risk looking un-cool. However, it seems that not everyone in the household was as subtle as me with their opinions.

"Oww!" Alfred whined as the leather book collided with his head. "Mom!"

Mrs. Jones was grinning while rolling her eyes. She made her way back to the front of the room giggling and holding the weapon that actually managed to get through Alfred's thick skull. From where she was standing now I could read the golden lettering on the work she was holding. I blinked my eyes, ensuring I'd read it right, and a feeling of pure delight fell over me. Alfred had been completely wrong; this was a lovely and amazing piece of literature.

"Serves you right, Alfie, for judging before you even know what you'll be reading next."

Alfred sighed dejectedly, and turned toward me.

"Well at least one of us looks excited."

The smile I'd had on dissipated into a frown, and I could feel the rose spewing onto my cheeks. Lovely, now it seemed as if I was excited over something so trifling to Alfred. So much for trying to be cool, calm and collected… I must look absolutely horrid now, and on top of that, Alfred will think I'm sad or somethi-

"Hey it's alright," my glance shifted back toward my friend from where it had been on the floor, "I didn't mean that like an insult, Artie. I know this is like your forte, so it's no surprise you'd like this kinda stuff."

How had I called that? I pondered it awhile as I shifted a little from my place on the floor. Was I that overly-emotional? Did Alfred really notice my tiny frowns? My chain of thought stopped when I felt something at my fingertips. Alfred had laid his hand down on top of mine and was looking at me intently. He really did have pretty eyes… wait…

"Arthur? You forgive me right? It was just a joke; ya know like the French one you told earlier?"

His hand clasped down on mine and squeezed, awaiting my answer. I don't know why that gesture felt so foreign and sent my heart racing, but I knew enough to pull my hand away as quick as possible. Alfred looked almost a bit hurt as I hurriedly nodded at him and muttered a quiet, "…yeah I know…" It felt so rude to have done that, but his mother was there and watching, and my heart was racing, and something was clearly wrong with me. Perhaps I need to see a doctor…

"Alright boys, we really do need to get this lesson started. Before we start reading I want both of you to get out a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil."

I did as I was told, and together Mrs. Jones and I waited as Alfred struggled to find a clean piece of parchment. Eventually I gave in, handed him my own and quickly found a replacement sheet for myself.

"Thanks." he said, and I ignored the fact that his tone was a bit less cheery than normal. I hadn't had anything to do with that, had I?

"Excellent. Now that you're both ready I want you to answer a question I'm going to write on the board."

We watched as Alfred's mum made her way to the small chalkboard that was nailed to the library wall. She took to it, and slowly, beautiful white cursive letters appeared on the dark board. When she stepped back, I read the question to myself:

_Is there such a thing as "forbidden love"? _

I bit the inside of my cheek. How do I respond to that? Of course there's forbidden love, but at the same time, who's to say that love is forbidden in the first place? Ugh… my head hurt. I turned to see Alfred's reaction to the question, but he was already swiftly scribbling his response down on the paper. I leant over a bit to see what he was writing, but he caught me and covered his words with his arms.

"Hey, no cheating!" he said as he offered me a small smile, the missing part of his giddy persona back tenfold. I smiled in return and averted my eyes back to my own paper, glad that he was happy again; any other emotion didn't really suit Alfred.

I mused to myself a few moments longer before finally responding to the question on the board. When I set my pencil down, Mrs. Jones took a seat on her chair in front of us and spoke once more.

"Good, I see that both of you are done. I'm not going to force you, but would either of you like to share?"

She looked at me and my mouth formed a straight line. Usually I was always one to share what was on my mind, but with this question, I just couldn't be brought to do it.

"I'll share."

Alfred smacked his lips together, and chuckled as I stared at him in shock. His mother on the other hand looked pleased and urged him to continue.

"Please do, Alfred."

He stood up from his place on the hardwood floor next to me, and situated himself in front of the chalkboard before both his mother and I. He shifted on his feet a few times, seemingly nervous, before he calmed his movements and looked me directly in the eye. Smiling, he kept those pools of sky focused on my green.

"I don't really think there is such a thing as "forbidden love". I think that if two people _really_ love each other, and really want to be together, they'll find a way around the obstacles. People or things may be able to cause problems and dilemmas, but in the end true love will prevail. I don't think that love can ever be "forbidden" because in the end, it's so powerful that it really can't be stopped."

His mother clapped, and clapped, but for some reason Alfred was not deterred. He kept his eyes glued on me, staring expectantly, waiting for my response. I was speechless; truly and utterly speechless. I'd never thought that such beautiful words or thoughts could ever come from a boy so dense. Yet… something else nagged at my insides. Again with my heart skipping beats, and now my brain was fusing together new thoughts as well. I didn't know what to make of it, new and strange feelings about me, and Alfred, and love. It was all too much and I willed for an off switch in my brain. But of course instead, my mind continued to control my thoughts, actions, and worst of all, my words.

"That was beautiful…" I muttered before I realised what I was saying.

The tenseness around Alfred lifted and he offered me the biggest smile I'd ever seen. He took his seat next to me, slightly closer than before, and whispered a word of thanks in my ear.

"Thanks, Artie. That means a lot coming from you."

Red dotted my cheeks again, and I was just now beginning to understand why. Did I like Alfred? No that couldn't be. Surely I'd lost my marbles. Boys don't like each other; that's not how it works. Love between two boys… that would be… that would be…

"…forbidden…"

"What was that Arthur?" Mrs. Jones inquired, as she made eye contact with me.

"Oh, nothing. I'm sorry to have interrupted, please do continue."

"Certainly."

She flipped the bound book in her hand to the correct page, and settled into a comfortable position in her chair. Within moments, words filled my ears that had been written in England more than 300 years ago…

_Two households both alike in dignity,_

_In fair Verona where we lay our scene_

_From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny,_

_Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean:_

_From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,_

_A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life…_

**December 22****th****, 1940**

"Hey Artie, there's a letter for you," he squinted a moment and continued, "And I don't think it's from your mom. The return address is different."

"Is that so?"

I peeled my eyes away from the book I'd been reading as Alfred came over and sat down next to me on the couch. He lifted up the blanket I had sprawled across my legs and snuggled in against me. I didn't protest since Alfred had started doing this ever since the cold weather began, and though the fireplace roared in the corner, I welcomed another source of warmth.

"Yeah," he replied as he rifled through the rest of the mail, "It says it's from a Matthew or something."

My eyes widened and I stared at Alfred in disbelief.

"A Matthew? As in a Matthew Williams?"

The American cocked his head before pulling out said letter and scanning it once more.

"Mhm. Matt Williams. I take it you know him?"

He handed me the letter and I ripped open the seal. I absolutely loved receiving letters, though they were usually from my mum. Somehow I felt a connection to a life outside of the war through simple scribbled words on a piece of paper, sent in a yellowing envelope.

"Matthew was one of the few people who didn't ignore me back in London. I might go as far as to say he was a friend… perhaps my only friend."

Alfred smiled, albeit sadly. He always seemed to pity me when I spoke of my friendless past, though I knew the lad was no stranger to loneliness.

"Well go on! Read it!"

I removed the letter and unfolded the flimsy sheet of paper. For once Alfred remained quiet as I read out loud.

"_16-12-40_

_Dear Arthur,_

_Hello… well what an awkward way to begin a letter. I __apologise__, but I really don't know how I should even start this Arthur. Maybe a good place would be how I even got your address in the first place. Well... to be blunt, I got it from your mother. I don't know if you remember or not, but I'd gone to Canada during the summer of 1940 and returned to England at the beginning of October. I went back to school, and soon thereafter I realised you weren't attending classes. After a month had past and you were still yet to show yourself, I informed my mother and she told me plain and simple that you were most likely dead. "War is an awful thing sweetheart, poor and innocent boys can't win in a game they don't know how to play." That's what she actually said to me, and then she told me that you were probably in a better place now… I was sad to say the least. Another month passed, and as I'd failed to cope with your death, I thought it best to go and see if your house still remained and whether or not you were _really_ gone. I was a bit surprised when I got there… your flat still stood, though I had passed several buildings on the way that had been reduced to mere rubble. I went upstairs and knocked expecting for nothing but silence to answer me, but instead I was pleasantly surprised. Your mother answered the door, and despite your absence, managed to smile brightly at me, as she always had. She took me in, insisted that we have tea and we started a conversation. She told me she'd thought it was in your best interest to be evacuated and that you were living with an American family now. I asked if she might have the address so I may write to you, and well… here we are. I don't have much else to say, though I do have many questions. How are you? How is the countryside? And most importantly, what is the American family like? I've heard that they can be rather loud, but at the same time can be some of the kindest people you'll ever meet. Well honestly I'm just rambling now. I hope this letter reaches you, and if it reaches you before the holidays, I wish you a very good Christmas._

_ All the best,_

_ Matthew Williams"_

I smiled to myself, and my body felt warmer after reading that letter. I'd surely been lonesome back in London, but it was nice to know that someone still cared. Turning my head I could see Alfred, and I sighed and smiled softly at him; yes, it was nice knowing people cared.

"Hey, we're not loud!" the boy beside me practically screamed in my ear.

I chuckled and saw that Alfred was pouting now. I shifted a bit on the on the couch, and as a subsequent reaction, my American friend also moved a bit to stay nestled next me. He calmed and finally decided to rest his head on my shoulder. Was it strange that I felt extremely at ease when he did that? I'd been thinking of my strange feelings for Alfred, and while I acknowledged they existed, I still did not delve into them. In effect, they were hidden away, but I continued to soak up every little bit of affection Alfred handed out to me.

"I'm not loud, right Artie?"

He lifted his head a bit to make eye contact with me and I stuck my tongue out.

"You're about as quiet as the air raid siren, Alfred."

He frowned and turned, leaning his head back on my shoulder.

"But, Artie-"

"But you're also one of the kindest people I've ever met. And I wouldn't change you for the world."

**December 24****th****, 1940 17:10**

"Alfred honestly, for the queen's sake, sit down won't you?"

I giggled as I watched Alfred pace, up and down the hall, apprehension eating him up. Never before had I seen the lad so excited for something than he was right now.

"Artie you don't understand! My dad said he'd be here by three! It's already…" he glanced toward the nearest clock, "It's almost four!"

"I'd hardly call ten after three 'almost four'. Calm down won't you? I'm afraid you'll faint of an anxiety attack."

Alfred turned his bright blue orbs on me sparring me a glance. I tried to convey a little sympathy in the hopes that he'd calm down enough to take a seat and not move around constantly like a looney. He smiled for a brief second and came to sit by my side, though the anticipation was still evident on his face.

"Your concern is dutifully appreciated," Alfred mocked in a horrid imitation of my accent. He sent me a grin, and I really lost any of my will to become angry. Lately that grin had really taken an effect on me. Every time I was blinded by that smile, I thought Alfred all the more charming. The fact that I picked up on the tiniest of ministrations and found them endearing was really starting to scare me a little. I remember this happening only once before, for a pretty red haired girl at school… why on earth was it happening again with Alfred?

"Hey Artie," I'd long grown accustom to my trains of thought being derailed by a cheery voice.

"How many times have I told you it's _Arthur,_ not Artie, git." I smacked him on the shoulder and his grin doubled in size bearing all its pearly whites.

"I think it's kinda cute to have pet names for each other, don't you? You can call me Al if you want to."

Sometimes I wondered if Alfred's cheekbones ever tired from all the smiling he did.

"Well _Al,_" I emphasized, "As kind as your intent seems to be, I still object to such a thing. Don't you find that terms of endearment are only for those closest to your heart? Your mother reserves the right to call you Al or Alfie."

For some reason or another, this caused Alfred to stop and think. We sat in quiet for several minutes, and I started to squirm from the tension I'd unintentionally built into the atmosphere.

"Well Artie," he finally started rather calmly, "I think you're right to say that pet names are reserved for those closest to your heart… but that still doesn't change anything."

My eyes widened, and as my brain told me not to believe it, my heart beat with understanding.

"Wh-what do you mean Alfred?"

"I… I mean that you're really, really special to me Arthur…" his cheeks looked warm and flushed now and I had to kill the desire to reach out and touch them. "Th-that is to say that you're very close to my heart... quickly becoming one of the closes-"

Alfred never finished that sentence, for at that exact moment we heard a key being turned in the lock. The two of us must have been so engrossed in our own conversation we'd failed to hear the engine in the driveway. Alfred bolted to the door, and had his arms around his father the moment he stepped through the threshold. Within thirty seconds I'd gone from being told I was one of the closest people to Alfred's heart, to being left forgotten on the couch.

"Dad!" Alfred squealed, and for a moment my heart sank as I realised I'd never to be able to say that again.

I stood from where I'd been residing on the couch to watch the spectacle unfold. My legs were wobbly and my heart was weak from the sudden rush of emotion. I watched as Alfred embraced his father with love and ardor, and I hate to admit that I envied them. Mr. Jones was the embodiment of what I'd thought Alfred might look like in twenty years. He was tall, fit, blonde and of course he had those captivating blue eyes. Looking at the two of them was like looking into the future; the only difference seemed to be Alfred's unruly hair. And I wasn't the only one to catch onto that.

"I see you still can't get that one strand to stay down," Mr. Jones joked as he lent down and pressed a kiss to Alfred's head. "I missed you kiddo."

"I missed you too dad."

The awkward few moments that passed as the two exchanged pleasantries felt like years to me. I was standing on the sidelines of a family reunion that I'd never be a part of… a family so happy and kind and… American.

I dug my toe into the ground and averted my eyes when I felt them start to swell. I told myself I wasn't mad at the Jones', I couldn't be. After all this family had done for me, I could never bring myself to resent them in anyway. But… even with that being so, I'd be a liar to say I didn't feel a pang of jealousy. Not only was this family warm and loving, but they were together. No piece was missing… not due to death… or because they were separated by a bloody war.

"What do you think you're still doing over there, Arthur?"

Mr. Jones caught me off guard, and when I turned my head, I found that each member of the Jones family was sending me a smile. The man gestured with his arms wide, signaling an embrace.

"Come on, Arthur. You're just as much a part of this family as anyone."

That got me. It really did. I felt a tear drip down my cheek, and I tried to wipe it on my shirt sleeve before anyone noticed. I took a step forward, and then another until I felt strong, warm arm around me. It felt like I was hugging Alfred, only he was older, didn't smell of dirt and sweat, and offered more security. I smiled into Mr. Jones' chest; a silent thank you for his kindness. When I pulled away, he lent down to be eye level with me and offered some of the most thoughtful words I've ever heard in my life.

"Arthur, I know times have been tough on you, and you may feel a bit awkward right now, but I want you to know that by some stroke of luck the Jones family has been honored with your presence and we've never been more contented. All my son writes to me anymore is about what the two of you have done together, and how he's so happy he's made a friend. Even my wife speaks of what a polite, and intelligent lad you are; having a great influence on the family. We may not be related by blood, Arthur, but I want you to know we're still family," he smiled sincerely and I felt so sentimental for having to wipe my eyes again. "I will never be your real father, Arthur, I could never be a man that great, but if you allow me, I'd love to be the best dad I can possibly be to you. Whatcha say?"

I didn't even think about it before nodding my head "yes". Mr. Jones gave me another bear hug and I knew right then and there that I would come to love this family as I did my own. When I looked up and found the youngest set of blue eyes smiling at me, I questioned if I already did.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

A/N: I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as well. Enjoy! :)

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**December 24****th****, 1940 22:05**

"Artie… you're still awake, right?"

I lent my head up from Alfred's shoulder on which I'd started to doze off. It was only five past ten, but with such a whirlwind of events in one day, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.

"Remind me what we're doing again, Alfred," I inquired as shifted my glance to the window. The sky was dark, but I found that out here in the countryside, it was all the more beautiful. A multitude of twinkling stars were scattered across the sky, and it was hard to break my gaze from them.

"Watching for Santa, Artie, gosh! How many times have I said that?"

I smiled, and laid my head back on his shoulder (keeping it up had become a chore).

"Right, right. You've got to make sure he isn't shot down by the Luftwaffe," I said with a yawn that quickly turned into a giggle. When Alfred didn't join in, I let my laughter die down and looked up to find devastated eyes.

"Y-you don't think they'd actually do that, do you? Shoot down Santa Clause?"

He was looking at me desperately, as if his life were in my hands. It made me frown slightly, but instead of joining in his sorrow, I simply stood up, and ran a hand through his golden strands, ruffling his hair.

"No, Alfred, they'd never shoot down Father Christmas."

"Because they'd be put on the naughty list?"

"Well, I suppose so… but also because he brings happiness, joy and most of all hope. It doesn't matter whether we're in times of peace or war; Santa brings these things to everyone, regardless. No one would dare to shoot down one of the few sources of faith the world has left."

He smiled at me softly, and I returned the gesture with another yawn. I tousled his locks again, and this time he stood, and did the same thing to me. I shook my head, freeing it from his hand, and we both laughed.

"Come on, let's go to bed, Alfr-"

"Hey, Arthur look! A shooting star!"

I paused in making my way toward the stairs and glanced out of the great bay window, where the two of has just been seated. Alfred grabbed my palm, and pulled me to him, pointing out the charm falling from the sky.

"Quick, make a wish!"

I snuck a peek at my friend, and found his sky blue eyes scrunched up closed in concentration. It made me want to snicker, but instead, I closed my own eyes and pondered on a wish. There were so many things I yearned for: to see my mother again, an end to this war, and even things as simple as a chocolate bar or a banana; items I'd lacked since the beginning of this fighting. Yet, of all the things I could have wished for, one seemed paramount in my mind.

_I wish that Alfred never abandons me._

My cheeks flushed at the realisation of what I'd just wished for, and I inadvertently let go of Alfred's hand. I looked up and found him smirking, one eyebrow up in what seemed like a shrewd manner.

"What'd you wish for, Artie? It got you all flustered."

I averted my gaze, and resumed the journey to my room as I answered.

"Don't you know the first thing about wishes, Alfred? If you tell them to anyone, they won't come true."

**December 25****th****, 1940 06:45**

"Arthur! Arthur, get up!"

I groaned and pulled my comforter over my head, hoping that Alfred would get my drift.

"Arthur! You have to come see what Santa left! Come on!"

Again, I made no action to move. I rolled over to face the wall, and tried to ignore the blue-eyed nuisance that was attempting to coax me out of bed. It may be Christmas, but I was still tired and I'd be damned if-

I yelped as two arms encircled me from behind. As I turned my body, I found that Alfred had climbed in underneath my covers and grabbed me. He was smirking devilishly as he pulled me close and rubbed noses.

"If you wanna do this the hard way, Arthur, so be it!"

My face pinked from the contact, but I didn't have long to think about it since Alfred hurriedly repositioned his arms so that one was behind my knees and the other looped around my arms. He scooped me up, blankets and all, and started trotting downstairs. The idiot was smiling and laughing, _laughing! _Me on the other hand, I was completely embarrassed. My cheeks flushed, and by the time Alfred hit the bottom of the stairs, I was squirming like a madman.

"Let go of me you bloody tosser! I'm not your blushing bride!"

Alfred snickered all the more and kept a tight grip on me as he brought us to the living room.

"Are you sure, Artie? You're certainly blushing!"

I was going to rebuke him, really I was, tell him off, and hit him upside the head as I should, but at that moment we entered the sitting room, and I came face to face with both of Alfred's parents. Each of them had a smile plastered across their face, as if they expected no less of their son. Alfred, thankfully, laid me down on the couch and I managed to untangle myself from half of the bed that had come downstairs with me. Once I was out, Alfred called me over to the fireplace where the rest of the family was seated. He patted the area of the floor next to him, and I sat down, rewrapping one of my blankets around myself.

"You'd better help Arthur remake his bed," Mrs. Jones commented and her husband smiled in agreement.

"Yes, and you'd better let me sleep till at least 10 for the rest of the week!" I added, and this caused the rest of the family to burble with laughter. Alfred grinned as he slung an arm around my shoulders and pointed the other one toward the corner of the room.

"Yeah, yeah sure! I'll do all of that, but right now we gotta open presents! Santa left plenty of stuff even though we didn't have a tree."

That was true. I looked over at corner and found that whilst there was no tree, there were still several packages. It was near impossible to acquire a tree for the holidays, because not only were there timber restrictions in the cities, (trees would easily catch and spread fire, were they to be hit by a bomb) but the wood was genuinely hard to come by, and expensive. Those who actually managed to find one paid a fortune for a hunk of wood that never met their expectations anyway.

"Let's open what we got from Santa first, and then I'll give you my present!"

I deadpanned as I looked over at Alfred.

"You, what? You bought me a gift? But, I don't have anything for you and-"

"Arthur, it's fine really. The fact that we got any presents at all is a virtue, right?"

I nodded my head, and Alfred handed me a small package wrapped in brown paper. Scrawled atop the wrapping was my name and the words "From Father Christmas." I glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Jones expectantly, as if thanking them. Mr. Jones just waved a hand and said, "Go on, Arthur. Open it."

I tore the paper carefully, not wanting to make too much of a mess. I knew that we could throw whatever was left of the covering into the fireplace, and squeeze as much heat from it as possible. As I ripped my gift open slowly, and the paper fell away, I was left holding a plush toy; a snow white unicorn. I marveled at it. The toy wasn't big, (about the size of both my hands put together) but it was soft, and delicate. I loved it, but at the same time I was confused. I turned toward Alfred's parents.

"How did you kno-"

But Mr. Jones raised a hand to silence me.

"I didn't. Santa Clause is magical; he knows just what every little boy and girl wants."

I smiled and turned back to Alfred expecting him to snicker at my girly toy. Amazingly enough, he was grinning ear-to-ear, but not in a mocking type of way.

"I love it. You'll have to help me name him," I motioned toward my gift. "Though, nothing stupid like, 'Horsey' or 'Fluffy.'"

Alfred just laughed and slapped my back.

"No way, man! I was thinking something amazing, like Horny!"

"ALFRED!" Mrs. Jones chastised, as she threw a pillow at her son. "No inappropriate conversation, especially not on Christmas."

The rest of us were giggling as Mrs. Jones pouted and Alfred replied with a cheery "Yes ma'am."

When the laughter died down, I nudged Alfred's shoulder and pointed to another packaging with identical wrapping to the one I'd just opened.

"Your turn. Let's see what Santa brought for you."

"Great!" Alfred lent forward and grabbed the parcel. In contrast to the way I'd opened my gift, Alfred nearly tore the thing apart, treating the present like a lion would fresh meat.

"Baseball cards!" he exclaimed, when the last of the paper had been shredded away. "This is swell! Now I'll have even more to decorate my room!"

"Mr. Clause certainly hit the mark this year, didn't he boys?" Mrs. Jones said with a smile.

"Most definitely," I responded, and Alfred answered by pushing two packages into their faces.

"Look! He even left presents for you guys! Open 'em, open 'em!"

Both of Alfred's parents slowly undid the covering on their gifts, and revealed two identical bars of soap.

"Soap!" Alfred cried. "That's so boring! Who wants soap as a Christmas gift?"

His parents looked at each other and then back to their son. Mr. Jones pulled his wife close to him and kissed her earlobe.

"Actually Alfred, with the war and all, soap is in short supply. It's a lovely gift, really."

Alfred frowned, clearly not satisfied with that response. When he turned back to face me though, that frowned transformed back into his trademark smile.

"There's only one gift left, Arthur! It's from me, and I hope you like it."

He thrust the last package into my hands, the only one that was wrapped in somewhat colourful paper. It was a pale green, and whilst it was small, the package looked promising. There was no doubt in my mind that my American friend had picked out a delightful gift.

"Thank you, Alfred. I'm sure I will."

Tentatively, I unwrapped the present and revealed two small, black canisters. I immediately knew what they were.

"Film!" I blurted out happily. I turned toward Alfred and embraced him tightly. His strong arms wrapped around me gently as he hugged back.

"I knew you'd run out, so I asked my dad to pick some up in the city," he said as he nodded toward his father. "I paid for it though! So it's definitely from me!"

I was smiling as I leaned out of the embrace and glanced first at Alfred, and then his father.

"Thank you so much… Both of you."

"No problem, Arthur. If you use some of it up before the end of the holidays, I'll take whatever film was used back to London and develop it for you. Then the next time I return, I'll give you the copies."

I don't think I could have been any more elated than I was at that moment. I jumped up from my place on the floor, and ran up to my room to retrieve my camera. When I came back, all three members of the Jones family had knowing smiles on their faces.

"I don't think I can wait," I told my makeshift family as I re-spooled one of the cartridges into my camera. "Would you mind taking a few?" I asked Mr. Jones.

"Of course."

I sat back down next to Alfred, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, bringing me closer. He rested his head on my shoulder as I grabbed my new unicorn plushie and clutched it to my chest.

"On the count of three, ready? One…Two…Three!"

I smiled the brightest that I had in a long time, and I knew that Alfred did the same. Somewhere in my heart, I knew I would be keeping that picture for a long, long time.

**December 25****th****, 1940 21:30**

Why was I getting nervous now? Now that I was already standing outside of Alfred's door.

The rest of the day had passed by in a blur of colours, smells and flashes from my camera. Jokes were made, laughs were heard, and Christmas with the Jones' quickly became one of the best experiences of my life. It was late now, though, and Alfred and I had already been sent upstairs to get ready for bed. And now this is where I found myself, standing immobile in front of Alfred's door.

"Are ya gonna come in, or are ya gonna stall all day?"

My face coloured a bit as I pushed the door open lightly, and took a step inside. Once in, I turned the knob and closed it gently.

"Going to, Alfred. Not 'gonna.'"

"Right. Anyway what's up?"

He patted the space on his bed next him, and I quickly plunked myself down. I must have spent at least five minutes finding a comfortable position on the mattress, delaying the reason I was actually here. Alfred eventually caught on and laid a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

"You, okay?"

"Ah…yes," I mumbled more so to myself. I looked up at Alfred to find two confused eyes. "W-well you know how you got me the film, but I didn't have anything to give to you?"

Alfred nodded slowly, then started to talk.

"Arthur, I already told you it's fine. I don't mind that you don't have a gift for m-"

I held my index finger to his lips and watched as he went cross-eyed trying to glance down at it.

"I know it's not much," I said as I retracted my hand. "And I know you'll probably think it's silly, but… I wrote you a poem."

Alfred's eyes brightened, and he blinked clumsily. When I saw him smile, almost all the anxiety that had built up in the pit of my stomach vanished; _almost_ all of it.

"Well, let's hear it," Alfred said in his joyful tone. In contrast, I paled slightly and my tone became grave.

"W-What?"

"You didn't think you were just gonna gimmie a piece of paper with a beautiful poem and then run off, did you?" he said with such a genuine smile that I wanted to melt. "Come on, Arthur, I wanna hear it."

I reached into the pocket of my pajama bottoms and pulled out a thrice folded piece of paper. I'd managed to scribble down my thoughts while Alfred had helped his mother peel potatoes (my peeling had been deemed unacceptable so I'd been sent upstairs) and I had some time alone. My plan was that I'd give the poem to Alfred, hope he saw it as a nice sentiment rather than something girly, and then never speak of it again. It had never crossed my mind that the boy would ask me to _read_ him the blasted poem…

"Go on," he coaxed happily, completely unaware of the inner battle I was having with myself. Damn you, Alfred F. Jones, for causing ambivalent thoughts and feelings.

I unfolded the paper and stared at the words I'd written earlier that day. Now that I was nervous, they looked different, foreign, like something you don't know how to pronounce, and hope your teacher doesn't make you read aloud.

"Are you sure you want to hear it? You're not going to think of me as effete, will you?"

"Well Arthur, I don't even know what that word means, so there's no way I could think of you as that."

I snorted and Alfred smiled as he nudged my shoulder.

"Please, if anything Artie, I think it's sweet you would write me something; please read it."

So I took a deep breath, and read what was composed on the scrap of paper:

_Alfred F. Jones_

_I wasn't sure what to expect_

_When I met an Alfred F. Jones_

_I didn't know if life would be hell_

_Or simply full of unknowns_

_I haven't known someone like you_

_Ever in my life_

_And whilst we have a lot of fun_

_We wind up causing strife_

_It doesn't do you justice_

_To have me write these words_

_Describing you with simple terms_

_Is certainly absurd_

_I wasn't sure what to expect_

_When I met an Alfred F. Jones_

_I never knew that with his love_

_I'd come to find my home._

When Alfred didn't say anything I tensed.

"Listen, I knew this was a stupid idea, I never should have-"

But I stopped talking when a felt a presence feathering over my right hand. It was Alfred's own palm, opening and grasping mine. He squeezed it tight before he looked at me.

"Arthur, that was incredibly sweet. You're talented, ya know that?"

I smiled shyly and glanced toward the wall.

"Thank you… I… I've always wanted to be a writer. I'd love to be an author when I grow up."

"You'd be wonderful. I'd definitely read whatever you wrote."

"Thank you, Al," I said as quietly as possible, and shortly after, I found the courage to face him again. "I'm sorry I don't have anything better… but I'm glad you liked it."

"It was the greatest present I could have gotten," he said as he beamed at me and squeezed my hand tight. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."

"Merry Christmas, Alfred."

**December 31****st****, 1940 23:55**

It was five to midnight as Alfred and I sat huddled in front of the family's radio, listening to the airwaves. We were curled up together, sharing several blankets as we listened to the broadcaster speak between war song intervals. Alfred's parents had long since gone to sleep, but they deemed tonight an exception, and let us stay up to bring in the New Year.

It was exciting, really, to think that in just a few moments the year would be over. 1940; the first full year of this war, but also the year I met Alfred. I wasn't sure what to think anymore since disaster and delight always seem to intertwine in my life; never could I have one without the other.

"It was a good year," Alfred said happily, with no trace of somnolence in his voice. "Even with, ya know, the war and all."

"I suppose it was," I answered a bit monotone. In regards to the events of this year, whilst I was torn away from my mother, I made a best friend. No one close to me had died, yet my heart had truly started to ache. It wasn't what I would call a perfect year, but I was alive, wasn't I?

Alfred turned to me, and his eyes mirrored something akin to nervousness. I blinked, thinking I imagined it, but when I opened my eyes again, that strange air was still there. The lad was smiling fondly, but I could tell he was a bit out of sorts.

"Are you alright?" I asked with concern tainting my voice.

"Couldn't be better!" he exclaimed a bit too early as he took my hand. "Listen, they're about to start the countdown!"

"_And we're just about reaching the final moments of 1940, everyone. This is the conclusion of a very busy and drawn out year, but we can only pray that 1941 brings us a bit more happiness. Alright, we're in the final minute now, and we'll be starting the countdown. When you hear the bell, that's your cue to ring in the New Year!"_

I glanced from the radio, back to Alfred, and noticed that his sky blue eyes had never left my face.

"_10, 9, 8…"_

"To happiness in the new year?" he asked me quietly.

"_7, 6, 5…"_

"To happiness in the new year," I affirmed and sent him what I hoped to be a calming smile.

"_4, 3, 2…"_

"Arthur, I-" He suddenly pulled me flush against his chest and my mind couldn't make sense of what was going on. "I- I-"

"_1!"_

Without having time to think, I was brought right up against Alfred's face, and his pink lips were meeting mine. My eyes expanded in shock, but for whatever reason, I didn't pull away. What came over me, I don't know, but I closed my eyes and let Alfred continue our sloppy snogging. It was short, and sweet, and even though I'd never kissed anyone before, I knew that Alfred was pouring a boatload of emotion into this. Clearly, neither one of us knew what we were doing, but we continued until my mind finally caught up with me and I pulled away in a panic. Only when I got the courage to look back up at him, did I realise there was a trail of saliva connecting me to Alfred's mouth. I was embarrassed, and when the full understanding of what we'd just done hit me, I started to crawl away like a child who had done something wrong; wait, I _was_ that child.

"Don't go!" Alfred hiss-whispered as he clutched onto my hand. "You can't just leave… after that…"

I cocked my head around to face him, and found that while he was completely flushed, he also looked incredibly worried.

"What was that?" I asked, but no venom came out in my words, only genuine curiosity.

"Me… kissing you?" He tried and he pulled me back to him. I sat no more than a quarter of a meter away from him, but he still refused to let go of my hand.

"Yes, Alfred, I could see that," I said as pink coloured my face. "You're aware that even in Europe, the proper way to kiss a friend is on the cheek, not on the li-"

"I know," Alfred cut me off. He fixed his gaze with the ground, though within a few seconds he looked back up at me sincerely. "But Arthur… I- I-"

"Alfred! Two boys can't kiss there! You know that!" This time it was me cutting him off, and I'm not sure whether it was fear or denial coating my voice.

"And why not?" He asked me, his worry slowly transforming into an adamant pout. "Why should anyone tell me who I can or can't kiss?"

"Alfred…" I tried again, but I wasn't quite sure what my argument was. Whose side was on; my brain and heart were battling that out. For the most part, I refused to get too close to anyone, or listen to my heart, because that person who I loved would always leave me, or be taken away. I think that's why I refused to give into Alfred's clear affection, and part of me refused to accept my own feelings. Alfred seemed to pick up on my somber attitude because he brought his hands to my waist and tugged me to his lap.

"Arthur… I like you… a lot, and… I enjoyed… doing that. I know you did too."

My face coloured as I looked up at him.

"H-how would you know that?" I asked, though it was relatively obvious.

"Well for one… you… kissed me back… and even when you pulled away… you were smiling."

I blinked and touched my mouth. Had I really done that? Sure, I'd felt pleasure when our lips were connected, but I'd also felt some type of extreme fear, like I was committing a crime.

"Alfred… w-we can't…"

"And why not?" He asked me, eyes worried but unyielding.

"B-because-"

"Because two boys can't love each other?"

I didn't know what to do anymore, and the emotional rush had turned me into a pile of goo. Nothing I could do would have stopped that tear from streaming down my face.

"Arthur, don't cry…" Alfred pulled me closer and rubbed circles into my back. "If you really don't want this, it's alright, we don't have to-"

"C-can we keep it a secret?" I tried to keep my voice steady as I gazed into Alfred's eyes. In a moment, all the anxiety in them had vanished, replaced with something soft and loving.

"Sure, we'll keep it our little secret," he said as he smiled and laid his lips on my forehead. "I… I love you Arthur…"

And this time when he kissed me, I didn't pull away.


	9. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I do not own the excerpt of Winston Churhill's speech used._

_A/N: So many reviews! Really, I can't thank you guys enough for that! They really make me smile, each and every one, so thank you. Aside from that, in story news, now that Alfred's made his affection rather apparent, I'm going to be speeding the story up a bit. I don't want to rush, but we do have a whole war to cover. Enjoy!_

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**January 15****th****, 1941 15:20**

"Arthur? You okay?"

That quickly broke me from my reverie, as Alfred took and squeezed my hand.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," he said with a sad smile. "You sure you're alright?" His eyes were bright and waiting for a response.

"I'm fine, Alfred, no need to worry," I said and turned away. "I've just been thinking about things…"

"Things? What kind of things?"

I shrugged and glanced back at him, but my mind was elsewhere.

It's true I'd been thinking about a lot lately. Two weeks since another boy kissed me, and yet I wasn't quite over it. The initial shock was gone, but the confusion was still there. Alfred F. Jones had kissed me, on the lips, and told me he loved me. I don't know why, but I kissed back, and I actually enjoyed it. But still, that made for a perfect clutter of feelings and emotions to be scattered all over my brain. Part of me was so happy to have this person, this boy who could give me so much love and warmth, but part of me was still fearful. There was of course, the fact that Alfred and I were both male, but I don't think that was it. That's not what was causing my jumbled thoughts.

"Artie, you've been acting weird ever since… ya know. It's my fault isn't it?" he questioned, frowning.

"No!" I denied a bit too fast and bit my lip to keep from saying anything else. He stared at me perplexed, and I just looked away again.

By now I knew what was causing the majority of my dread and the clash of feelings. Since that first day, Alfred had been taking it slow. He'd send me loving glances, and grant subtle touches, and if his mother was out of the room, sometimes a peck on the cheek. This would make me blush, but more than that, I was now deathly aware of the warmth it would spread all over my body. That warmth is what I feared most. It probably sounds stupid, but I was trying my damn hardest not to return Alfred's feelings. After he kissed me that first night, I realised agreeing to this was a mistake. Not because I didn't care for Alfred, because I did, but because I didn't want to wear my heart on my sleeve. If I got close to him, my heart would be broken again, I knew it would. Even if it wasn't intentional, at the end of this war I would be whisked back to London, and Alfred would no doubt try and get back to America. We would never see each other again, and if I actually returned his love… god, that parting would be so much harder to do. How could I knowingly put my heart on the line when that was the inevitable?

"No, Alfred… it's not… it's not your fault."

He furrowed his brows unconvinced, then stood up from the couch. We were still holding hands, so when he stood, I was dragged upright as well.

"Come on. We'll talk about this upstairs."

I let him lead me upstairs, knowing full well what we were about to talk about. His mother had been in the kitchen, possibly within hearing distance from where we sat. If she heard about us… I didn't want to think about it. I had enough on my mind as it was.

Alfred sat me down on his bed, and then closed the door. He took a seat next to me and stared me straight in the eyes.

"Something's wrong. Before I kissed you… you at least smiled at me. Now all you do is blush, scowl, and do that weird thing where you get lost in thought."

I blushed and scowled but I answered him.

"Well you certainly have given me a lot to think about."

"But you said we could…" he looked down and then back up me with a poignant look on his face. "Are you changing your mind now? I don't want this if it's gonna make you unhappy…"

Alfred reached for my hand, but rethought his action and retracted it. Instead he just stared at me, waiting to be put down. I felt horrible… really I did, for making him feel this way. Somewhere my conscience was telling me to reach out and hug him, but my logical self was berating that thought.

"Alfred, it's not that I don't want this. I never said that."

His gaze turned a bit hopeful.

"But something's still wrong, I can tell. Is it me? Should I do something? Cut my hair, or try and grow a mustache or something manly like that?"

I giggled because honestly, I did find Alfred's antics adorable. He smiled a bit, but I could tell he was still serious; he wanted to know what was wrong.

"Please tell me, Art. Even if it's something awkward... or sexual, I'll try and help." He paused and glanced at his lap before looking back to me. "You're not starting to get excited… down there, are you?"

My flush grew to stretch all the way from my cheeks to the tip of my ears. I was completely mortified he had even said that.

"What? No, Alfred, nothing like that!"

He looked away shyly, dejectedly, and for a moment I felt bad.

"Y-you're not feeling that way are you?" I asked quietly, and Alfred's cheeks coloured like mine.

"N-no!" he said and threw a pillow at me. He was smirking and I when I caught it, I sent the cushion right back at his smart alec face. At least that awkward conversation had been avoided.

He smiled and sat back up, holding the pillow in his lap. Slowly the humour of the situation dissipated and I was left face to face with a quite serious Alfred.

"Well… I still want you to tell me what's wrong, Arthur. Please, I do want to help."

I glanced at him and then sighed. Would he understand my fear of being alone? The fear of having no one, as all of those you care about slowly disappear from your life? Would he understand that I didn't want to get into this only to lose him? God, I sound like a sap.

"Do you promise not to laugh?"

Alfred smirked as he stared at me.

"Oh, I see what this is," he said smugly and raised a brow. "You wrote me another poem didn't you? Well I can't help it if I'm the perfect subject for an artist's piece of work."

I grinned, and I couldn't help but smile as I slapped his arm.

"No, idiot," I answered and rolled my eyes.

He reached out, and this time gently took my hand.

"Alright… I was pretty sure I had ya there, but I promise not to laugh at whatever it is."

He squeezed, and I squeezed back. I averted my eyes so I didn't have to see the teasing look I was sure had to be plastered across his face.

"Al… it's, it's not that I don't want to have something special with you, because I do, it's just that…"

"We're guys?" he guessed, though he wasn't trying to be smart about it.

"Well yes and no, but that's not really what's been making me think so much."

I paused, and when I didn't pick up again, he nudged my shoulder.

"Go on."

I looked up at him, and he was watching me closely. I realised then he wasn't going to taunt me about my feelings; he genuinely cared.

"A-alright, well… ever since you kissed me, I've been thinking a lot."

He nodded to show he was paying attention.

"I… do like you. And I do want this to work, but… I can't."

"You can't?" he asked with a frown. "Why not?"

"It's going to sound silly to you…"

"No it won't. If you can't love me, I at least wanna know why."

For a moment I just stared at him. Those eyes were compassionate, but they were also desperately waiting for my reasoning.

"I never said I couldn't love you…" I mumbled, and Alfred lit up just a little bit. "I… just… this relationship can't work. It won't end well."

"What? Who says so?"

"Alfred don't play dumb," I said as our eyes were glued on one another. "You know just as well as me that once this war is over, I'll leave, and you'll probably move back to America and we'll just go our separate ways. I'm sure you'll find a nice girl, and have a family, and forget all about me. I don't… I can't start this when I know what the outcome will be…"

He stared. His eyes we're big and blue, but I couldn't read them this time. I had no idea what message they were relaying.

"Arthur don't play dumb."

"What?"

He sighed, and then started talking.

"How could you-? Why would you think that-?" he trailed off into silence. "Arthur, where did you get the idea that as soon as this fighting is over, I'm gonna hop on the next plane to the States?"

"Well… you always talk about America and I just assumed that-"

"Don't assume things. Even if this war ended tomorrow, I'm sure I'd still be stuck here waiting for everything to get sorted out," he hesitated then looked at me. "But more importantly, I'd be stuck here because I wouldn't want to leave you."

"Alfred…"

"No it's true. I don't know if this relationship will work, but I really, really want to try. Even if it doesn't… I'd still care for you because you're the best friend I've ever had."

I was completely silent and so he continued.

"I'm not gonna make you love me, that's not what I want, but you should know I'm not gonna leave you as quickly as you think. You'd have to be crazy to abandon someone you care for and love so much, in such a hurry."

He scooched closer and hugged me, and I knew he meant those words.

"So… please just think about that next time you're stuck in one of your bad-future-daydreams, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed my nose, and I buried my face in his shoulder.

That was the day I really fell in love with Alfred F. Jones.

**February 9****th****, 1941 21:00**

"Arthur you're taking too much of the blanket," Alfred said, as he swiped it off of me and wrapped it around himself.

"I am not!" I retorted and pulled harshly at the fabric. "Let go!"

He smiled knowingly at me before saying, "Oh? You mean like this?" and released the cover. He obviously had this planned out, since when he freed the blanket from his grip, I was pulling so hard I fell backwards onto my rump. The blanket gently feathered down on top of me, and I could hear Alfred snickering in the background.

"Boys, quiet down would you? I'd like to hear the PM speak if you don't mind."

I lifted the coverlet from my face and sat up. Alfred scooted closer and grabbed the blanket, this time laying it down evenly across both our laps. We were quiet as Mrs. Jones tuned the radio to find the Prime Minister's broadcast. He would be addressing the nation, and theoretically, would help to boost morale with a currently distraught public. Alfred and I actually managed to keep our mouths shut as we listened.

The beginning of the transmission was mostly some recognitions, along with some updates informing those who hadn't heard of our military victories in Africa, and the defeat of the Italians. I was happy to say the least. If we'd already had so much success in northern Africa and the Middle East, perhaps we could finish off the Germans and the war would be over by next Christmas; that would be so lovely.

"Hmm…" I heard Alfred mumble as the PM neared the end of his speech. I'd zoned out for awhile with my daydreams, but I managed to catch the end.

"_We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire. Neither the sudden shock of battle, nor the long-drawn trials of vigilance and exertion will wear us down. Give us the tools, and we will finish the job."_

"I doubt that," I heard Alfred say, a bit dismayed.

"What?" I asked, and Alfred turned to face me.

"Weren't you listening? He talked about how you guys need supplies from America, but not troops. I doubt that's really the case."

I sat up straight and crossed my arms.

"Are you saying we can't win this war on our own?"

He stretched his arms out and yawned before answering me.

"Well… I don't think you'll win at the rate your going," he said calmly. "Britain already needs supplies from the States, how long do you really think they'll last without our men as well?"

I huffed indignantly and pointed at him.

"I'll have you know that it is not only Britain, but also the whole commonwealth fighting under the crown! And addition to that, France is by our side."

He shrugged and looked almost bored.

"I know. But France has already fallen, and none of those other countries are terribly strong."

I was angry now, Alfred's indifferent attitude getting on my nerves.

"What, so you think we're going to lose because we don't have strong allies? What about America, huh? Maybe this would end if _your_ country would step in!"

That seemed to set Alfred off. He glared at me as he answered.

"Hey, I never said I wanted America to join the war, just that I think you'll need our help."

"Britain is strong. We don't need your help!"

"Oh really? Then why was your boss just begging for supplies over the radio, huh?"

"He wasn't begging!"

"Of course not. Britain was just asking America if they could borrow some sugar, and maybe 5,000 planes and 100 tons of ammunition. The British Empire's not what it used to be, Arthur. You just can't admit you need our help to win."

"How dare you!" I shrieked and stood up from the floor. "Insulting the land you're standing on right now!"

"I'm sitting, smart ass."

"You ungrateful brat!"

I was just about to tackle him when Mrs. Jones grasped my shoulder.

"Enough. Both of you; go to bed."

We nodded and silently made our way upstairs. Not another word was exchanged that night.

**February 10****th****, 1941 16:15**

I hadn't really planned on what I was going to do with Alfred today, but the moment I saw is face, my gut told me to ignore him. We hadn't spoke since the fight yesterday, and I thought perhaps Alfred would have come into my room and apologised for his words, yet he never did. So when we both slipped into the library for our morning lessons, neither one of us seemed to be over our argument, and neither one of us seemed keen on speaking to each other.

Mrs. Jones tried to get us to converse, but her efforts were futile. I was angry at Alfred for what he said, and even though I cared for him, my irritation seemed to temporarily override that. When she finally dismissed us that afternoon, I grabbed my coat and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, annoyed, but there was something else in his voice. I didn't reply, but I opened the front door.

"Hey! I asked you where you were going!"

This time I did turn around.

"Oh? Are you worried I won't be able to manage a simple walk on my own? Am I too weak for that too, Alfred?"

I hissed the last line and slammed the door. Truth is, I didn't really know what I was doing, or where I was going, but I had to be away from Alfred for a few minutes. The tension in the library had done a number on me, and I just wanted some time alone.

The cold nipped at my face and fingers as I continued to walk on. I stuck my hands in my pockets and tried to bury my face into my jacket as much as I could. Even though I'd come out here to relax, I was still thinking of Alfred. Stupid, idiot, who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. How dare he mock the soil I was born on? The soil his mother was born on? I didn't understand…

A cold chill came with a breeze that mussed up my hair. When I reached up to fix my fringe, I found myself in front of the tire swing, the very place I'd met Alfred. A wry smile covered my face, and I shoved myself inside the swing. This would be a perfect way to blow off some steam.

I grounded my feet, and then pushed off with as much force as I could muster. The fact that the wind was frosty and blowing in my direction slowed me a bit, but I continued with my angry swings.

"Stupid Alfred, thinking America is so much better," I muttered to myself. "Thinking England is weak… we ruled half the bloody world a few decades ago. We don't need America… we can win this war."

"Winning a war doesn't make you stronger, but asking for help does."

I stiffened but didn't turn around; mind you I was stuck in a tire, so I couldn't really have turned even if I wanted to.

He came around front, and stared at me. He'd put on his coat and a scarf before apparently following me out here. He looked at me, and tried to smile, but I just glared.

"Go away."

"No."

I took a few steps back, warning him I would swing, but he took no action. When I remained motionless, and he deemed it safe, he even came forward and bent down to face me.

"What are we doing, Artie?"

"I told you not to call me that, twit."

My insult bounced right off of him.

"Why are we fighting over this? There's already a war on, the last thing I want is a fight with my best friend."

I looked at the ground and let my hair cover my eyes.

"It didn't seem that way earlier. You were perfectly content to never speak to me again."

"Yeah well, I was being stubborn. Kinda like you're being now."

I didn't look up at him.

"Please go away, Alfred."

"No."

He grabbed my chin and made me look at him.

"Ya know what, Arthur? I may have said some stupid stuff yesterday, but I'm sorry. Sometimes I just get caught up with what's going on, and I forget what's really important to me."

I blinked, and waited for him to let go of my chin but he didn't.

"So, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean what I said about Britain, and I hope you forgive me. Allies can't win a war when they're fighting each other, right?" he said with a small smile.

"I suppose…" I mumbled, feeling my resolve breaking. I wanted to be angrier with Alfred, but that smile and the kind words, and those bloody beautiful eyes!

"That's my boy," he grinned and bumped noses with me. He then released my face and walked around back. "You wanna push?" he asked, and didn't wait for an answer before I felt hands on my back thrusting me upward.

"I didn't even say yes, yet!" I yelled at him, but it lacked any venom.

"Ah, so you _were _going to say yes then?" he answered, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I hate you," I muttered, and I felt him grab my waist, and stop the swing. He gently pulled me out and looked me in the eyes.

"You don't mean that."

He said it as if he thought he knew the answer, but wanted to make sure.

"No, Al, of course I don't mean that…"

He smiled, and started to lean forward. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he stopped right in front of my face. He took off his scarf, and wrapped it around my neck.

"Can I make a preposition?"

"I think you mean a _proposition_, and yes, you can."

He leant back and I thought he was looking at me, but it took me awhile to realise he was actually staring beyond me, at the swing, and the tree, and the frost covered hills.

"If we ever have something really important to tell each other, can we come here?"

I glanced around uncertain.

"What, you mean use the tire swing as a meeting ground?"

"Yeah but… only for really important things like apologies or secrets."

His eyes were wide with anticipation and I wasn't quite sure what he was up to. I just nodded my head.

"Sure… I suppose that's alright."

He smiled bright and leant in again.

"I'd kiss you, but I'm afraid my mom might be watching us," he said with a dorky grin. My face flushed, but when I looked back toward the house, I'm fairly certain I saw a silhouette in the window. I turned my face back to him.

"So, you're no longer mad at me?"

He shook his head vehemently.

"No. Are you with me?"

I shook my head softly, and he grinned.

"Alfred…"

"Yeah?"

"Umm… your mom wouldn't see us off we went back to your room… and then maybe we could… kiss there."

He almost ripped my hand off, pulling me back to the house.

**February 14****th****, 1941 10:45**

Alfred brought me to the tire swing today and told me to wait there for a second.

"Do you have something important to tell me?" I questioned and he rushed out a "Yeah! Stay there, I'll be right back."

I sat down against the tree with my legs tucked up to my chest. I was getting cold, and desperately wanted Alfred to return. In addition to the chill, my butt had become wet from the frosty grass, and I was starting to get quite uncomfortable.

"Where is that idiot?" I murmured whilst rubbing my arms from the cold.

"He's here."

I looked up and found Alfred holding a single scarlet carnation. He sat down next to me and handed me the flower.

"It was the first bloom of the season, and, it's for you, valentine."

My face coloured as I brought the petals to my face and sniffed them. The flower smelled wonderful, mixed with the scents of the fresh air, and of the stupid boy beside me. I also couldn't help but think of my mother's garden… but now was not a time for sorrow and piteous memories.

"I really wanted it to be a rose, but they weren't ready in time," I looked up to find him smiling. "But… uh… my mom did tell me the meaning of a red carnation, and I think it fits pretty well."

He was rubbing the back of his neck and I could tell he was embarrassed.

"Does it? Well now I must know."

He hesitated, then looked down and started playing with some grass.

"Well the different colors have different meanings… like a white carnation is good luck, and a pink one might mean admiration or gratitude…" he trailed off again and I nudged him in the side.

"And the red ones, Al? What do they mean?"

He looked at me, and then back at the grass.

"Well... the red ones stand for… love and affection."

He peeked back up and I smiled at him. I'm sure my face was as red as the flower but it didn't really matter right then.

"…Well that fits pretty well doesn't it?" I mumbled shyly, but I knew Alfred heard because he answered me.

"Iloveyou…" he rushed out, but I still managed to catch it. He turned to me with a pink tinted face. "I wanted to tell you here… cause… it's important."

I felt the edges of my lips lift, and I reached out for Alfred's hand. We entwined fingers and smiled at each other.

The winter had been interesting. I'd learnt that Alfred fancied me and was stunned, but what surprised me even more was that… I'd come to terms with myself, and managed to reciprocate the feeling. Alfred made me happy inside, and I wanted to make him happy too. I was sure of what I was feeling this time too, since I'd even fought with him, and yet we were able to get over it and still have that magical warmth inside. A lot had happened in both the real world, and the little world I shared with Alfred this season, and because of it, I knew what I was about to say was true.

"Alfred," I said, and his attention came back to me, but I knew it had never really left. "I love you too."

And I would have kissed him too, if I wasn't afraid that his mum might be watching.


	10. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I do not own the song lyrics used._

_A/N: One small correction from last chapter: I'm not sure that anyone noticed, but during their little fight, Arthur mentions that the Soviet Union is allied with Britain, France and the Commonwealth. Actually, the USSR did not join on the side of the Allies until Axis forces invaded in June 1941. I doubt anyone picked up on that, but being the history nerd that I am, I felt the need to bring it to your attention and fix the problem. Other than that, should be good. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**March 19****th****, 1941 11:20**

"Hey Artie!"

I turned my head as Alfred flung a handful of dirt into my face. Evidently, the scowl I put on as I wiped the mess off had little to no effect, considering Alfred started giggling incessantly.

"Oh gosh, Art! Ya should have seen your face!"

I rolled my eyes and brushed the rest of the earth from my cheeks.

"Shut up, Alfred. Get back to work."

Even though it was still mid-March and summer holidays had not yet started, Mrs. Jones had permitted us a week off in the spring; though not without reason. Ever since the beginning of this war, the Ministry of Food had encouraged the population to attempt to grow their own food. Posters had popped up all over the country claiming we should "Dig for Victory." I vaguely remember the image of a single boot driving a shovel into the earth on one of the many propaganda posters back in London. The better people could sustain themselves, the less food used, meaning it could be delivered to soldiers and others in dire need of aliment. So because of this, and because the Jones' residence had plenty of room for growing crops, I found myself digging holes in the warming spring weather.

"Lighten up, Artie. It's not that bad."

Alfred was grinning at me as he took my shovel and drove it into the ground. The earth was still a bit cold and cracked from the winter months, and I'd been having trouble prodding the soil. He lifted the tool and plopped the dirt onto a nearby pile. I watched as he dropped the shovel and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand; this was rather hard work.

"Why don't you go get the seeds? Mom said they'd be on the kitchen table."

"Alright," I nodded at him and started off toward the front door. The weather was getting nicer now, and I wondered how long it would be until Alfred and I could play a match of football again. That would certainly be fun, though I still didn't trust his aim.

Reaching the house, I ran inside and picked up the packets of seeds. There were only two types of vegetables we'd be growing: potatoes and carrots. Potatoes were the rather obvious choice considering their many uses and the fact that the crop was so easy to grow. Carrots on the other hand… I looked at the seed packets and smiled. They'd all been Alfred's idea.

"_Arthur! You're not gonna believe this!"_

_ Alfred burst through my bedroom door and I put down the copy of _Little House on the Prairie_ I'd been reading to look up at him._

"_Did Germany surrender?"_

_ His smile faltered and he started scratching the back of his neck as he glanced back at me._

"_Well no…"_

_ I lifted my book back in front of my face and started reading again. I heard Alfred huff indignantly and a few seconds later the piece of literature was snatched from my hands. He threw the book across the room._

"_Hey!"_

_ He smiled and climbed onto the bed hovering over me. A devilish grin spread across his face._

"_Commence tickling!"_

"_What? No- HAHA HEE! ALFRED STOP IT!"_

_ His hands were all over my sides and one even managed to crawl up and tease my armpit. I was stifling laughter whilst at the same time being annoyed and trying to shove him off. He kept at it until I finally realised that even though I was below him, I still had the upper hand._

"_I'll give you HEHE! One last chance to HAHAHA! Stop this!"_

"_No chance, Artie!" _

_ And so I kneed him in the groin, _hard_. _

_He let go of me in favour of protecting something else. I smirked victoriously, and slipped out from under him._

"_You deserved that."_

"_You're no fun, Arthur."_

_ As he glared, I gently pressed a kiss to his forehead. That seemed to calm him._

"_Perhaps. Now what was it you wanted to tell me?"_

_ In an instant, any evidence of our little play-fight vanished. Alfred's hand flew from his groin to an envelope that had fallen to the floor sometime during our escapade. I could see the letter had already been opened, and that it was addressed to Alfred, not me. From inside the packet, Alfred produced a hand written letter and some type of leaflet._

"_Look at this!" Alfred handed me the brochure and started pointing at the pictures. "My dad sent it to me! Isn't this swell?"_

_ I turned the paper over in my hands and skimmed it. Apparently these were results of some research done by the Air Ministry. It was claiming that the high intake of carrots by Royal Air Force pilots was leading to increased success in shooting down enemy bombers. Apparently, carotene, which is plentiful in carrots, aided in night vision. Because of this, RAF pilots could easily shoot the German planes out of the sky._

_ I looked back up at Alfred._

"_You don't honestly believe this, do you?"_

_ He smiled a grand smile and took the pamphlet from me._

"_Course I do! And I'm gonna start eating plenty of carrots now too. I might not get night vision, but maybe I at least won't have to wear these anymore." _

_ He took off his glasses and toyed with them for a moment. They twirled in between his fingers, but I didn't miss as Alfred grimaced at them and looked back at me._

"_I don't wanna wear these. They make me look weird, and they pinch my face when I kiss you."_

_ I blushed and smiled sadly at Alfred._

"_They don't make you look weird," I whispered and took them from his hands. "In fact, I think they make you look more mature."_

_ He frowned and met my eyes._

"_Weird and mature are completely different things, Arthur."_

_ I lifted the spectacles and gently placed them back on the bridge of his nose._

"_True. Well did I mention that I find both maturity and spectacles very attractive?" _

_ I was blushing when I said it, and I failed to mention that I really only found those qualities attractive in Alfred, rather, I only found Alfred himself attractive, but still._

"_Really? But they cover my eyes, and I know you like them."_

_ The red on my face darkened but I held firm._

"_I do like your eyes, yes, but I find that your glasses compliment them beautifully. They draw attention to the bluest eyes I've ever seen."_

_ Alfred grinned and hugged me._

"_Thanks, Art. So you think I'll get night vision like the RAF pilots?"_

_ What was I suppose to say to that, really?_

"_Of course. Maybe you'll even get X-ray vision."_

_ His smile was so bright, I honestly wished that the carrots _would_ do that, just so he could be happy._

"_I'm gonna go ask mom if we can plant some this spring!"_

_ He pecked my cheek and flew down the stairs, as joyous as ever._

"Are you still looking forward to your night and x-ray vision?" I asked him as I returned outside with the seeds.

"You bet! I could take my slingshot and knock those Krauts right out of the sky. I'll be just as good as any fighter pilot!"

He smiled as he said it and leant down to one of the many holes we had dug. Readily, he motioned for me to join him. I knelt down and opened a package of carrot seeds.

"And now," Alfred started as he took a few kernels from the sachet, "We plant the seeds of victory!"

"To victory," I avowed, and together we planted the beginnings of hope.

**April 22****nd****, 1941 21:45**

I don't know why I couldn't find sleep. I'd had another day full of work and play with Alfred, and surely I was tired, but my eyes just wouldn't stay closed. It was warm out, so my window sat open, and every few minutes I would stop and look at the sky, in between intervals of tossing and turning. Eventually I gave up on finding a comfortable position and just stared out at the stars. They were beautiful, so serene and peaceful and calm; until I noticed the footsteps. They were extremely tentative as their owner made their way past my room. They stopped awhile later, but I could still hear the knock on a door down the hallway.

"Mom?"

Alfred was up at this time too? I shifted from the window to face the door, hoping to hear better. Another knock followed Alfred's beckoning.

"Mom?"

I could vaguely make out more footsteps and the opening of a bedroom door.

"Alfred, why are you up? I sent you to bed almost an hour ago."

"I know, I know, it's just that something's been on my mind."

A sigh. I could tell that though Mrs. Jones might be a bit annoyed with her son, she wasn't truly angry.

"Alright, what is it that's on your mind, darling?"

I could hear Alfred shifting on his feet, before he let loose a string of words.

"Can you take me to town?"

A pause, followed by another heavy sigh.

"You want me to take you to town at 10 o'clock at night? Where on earth did you get that idea from?"

"Well it's just that…," I strained my ears trying to hear Alfred's whispering. "…Arthur's birthday is tomorrow and I don't have anything."

I could feel the warmth in my cheeks and the butterflies that took flight in my stomach. I hadn't even mentioned my birthday since I'd met Alfred, and quite honestly, up until now I'd forgotten about it. Part of me was wondering how he knew and what he planned to get me, and another part wanted to jump out of bed and tell him he didn't need to buy anything… he'd given me quite a lot already.

"Oh, sweetheart you should have told me when I went to the market last week. But as it is, none of the shops will be open at this time of night, and even if they were, we're trying to conserve petrol, Alfie, I couldn't take you."

"What about tomorrow morning? You could take me halfway and I'd walk the last few miles to town."

As sappy as it sounds, my heart was really melting. Alfred cared so much that he was willing to walk several miles to buy me something? That was so endearing… but also completely unnecessary. I'd slap some sense into him if he were with me.

"Alfred, no. You don't have to bend over backwards to make Arthur happy. I'm sure he'll understand under the circumstances, and he'll enjoy just spending time with you."

"But mom, I want to get him some-"

"You know, sometimes a smile and a hug are the most valuable gifts."

My lips had curved upwards in the corners and I was smiling. I could tell Alfred wasn't pleased with that response, but I hoped he'd understand. Of course I'd like a new book or something like that, but spending time with Alfred was worth so much more… I'd never _tell_ him that, but it was true.

"But what if that's not good enou-"

"Alfred, if Arthur loves you, which I know he does because you two are great friends, he won't mind that you haven't a tangible gift for him. He _will_ care that you remembered his birthday, and that you tried your hardest to make it a special day for him. Just because you haven't something wrapped up with bows, does not mean you can't make your friend happy."

Alfred was quiet for a moment as he seemed to digest that information.

"Well… what should I do?"

I could tell Mrs. Jones was smiling as she answered him.

"Sometimes a smile and a hug are the most valuable gifts," she paused, maybe to kiss her son. "And I'll give you both tomorrow off, but what you two do with that is up to you. Just have fun, and enjoy the time you have with each other."

Mrs. Jones lightly closed her door, Alfred's footsteps flew back past my room, and suddenly I found my eyelids quite heavy as I drifted off to bed.

**April 23****rd****, 1941 20:00**

Oddly enough, as my birthday rolled around, the day went on as fairly normal. Mrs. Jones stuck true to her word and did not make us attend classes, and I received a birthday card from my mother (smaller than usual since paper was being rationed), but other than that, it seemed to resemble any ordinary day. Breakfast was the usual toast and egg made from dried egg powder (it tasted absolutely horrid, but it was all we had since fresh eggs were so scarce). Alfred complained about not having butter on his bread, and his mother explained to him for the millionth time that, "We're in the middle of a war, Alfred. The least you can do is sacrifice some butter." After our meal, Alfred and I did a bit more work in the garden, checking on the progress of our carrots and potatoes. We watered, weeded, and the like until it was time for lunch. Later we played some cards and football, and by the time dinner rolled around, I was starting to think Alfred was choosing to just ignore my birthday all together. Certainly not what I expected after the conversation I'd heard last night.

"So mom, Arthur and I are gonna take a walk after dinner."

I looked up as Alfred finished off his last piece of spam. He chewed and swallowed, showing us his pearly whites.

"Is that so? Don't go too far then."

I grudgingly finished my tinned meat as well, and managed to down it with my cup of milk. Alfred would tell you otherwise since it's from America, but spam is utterly disgusting. I might go as far to say that the rubbery dried eggs are better, but that might be a stretch.

"Ya done, Artie?" Alfred was smiling brightly, as I set my cutlery down and nodded. I was suspicious as to why he was so excited all of a sudden after being relatively quiet all day, but I didn't get my hopes up. No sense in hoping for something when it's unlikely to come.

"I'll clean up today if you'd like," Mrs. Jones said as she winked at me. "You two go enjoy yourselves."

"Thanks!" Alfred replied gratefully and I followed up with a polite "Why, thank you." Not ten seconds after, Alfred motioned me toward the door and outside. The sky was still light, but would no doubt be darkening soon. It seemed that the sun would set in a few minutes. The two of us walked along the road that led out of the Jones' home and followed it in the direction of town. The thought crossed my mind that Alfred was going to try and drag me on a five mile walk to the market, but I realised that was not the case as he suddenly stopped to look at me and spoke softly.

"Do you think my mom can see us from here?"

I turned around and judged the distance. We were, perhaps, a half mile from the house, and whilst I didn't think Alfred's mother would be able to see us from here, I didn't want Alfred to do something stupid and have us get caught.

"I'm not sure, but maybe if we go behind that hill," I stopped and pointed to the rounded land not too far ahead. "She won't be able to see us from there."

Alfred smiled widely and ran ahead. I lost sight of him as he turned around the mound, but I scowled and followed him. When I rounded the hill, he grabbed my arm abruptly and pulled me down on top of him. We were rolling around in the grass for a few minutes before Alfred finally managed to stop giggling and spew out some words.

"Happy birthday, Arthur!"

He wrapped his arms around my waist and exhibited that brilliant smile.

"I know I acted like it was any normal day earlier, but that was because I was saving the surprise until later."

He grinned and squeezed me again before standing up.

"A surprise?" I asked, thoroughly confused as I took the hand he had offered me and stood up as well. Alfred had a surprise? But surely he hadn't bought me anything.

"Yep! Come on, let's find a good spot."

Alfred hadn't let go of my hand since helping me up, so I silently followed with our fingers linked. His hands were warm, but a tad sweaty and I couldn't help but think he was a bit nervous for some reason. He led me a ways away from the spot where we had unceremoniously fallen and started climbing the hill. It wasn't incredibly steep, and we had almost reached the top when he halted and turned to me.

"This look like a good spot?"

"A good spot for what?" I couldn't help asking.

I saw his face colour if only a bit. His palm was still a tad wet.

"I thought we could maybe watch the sunset? I know it's not a great gift but I couldn't really go out and buy anything since so much stuff is being rationed. Please don't be mad, I really did want to get something better but I just didn't have the money or a way to get the-"

I squeezed his hand and shushed him.

"This looks like a great spot," I whispered and I smiled at him. He grinned, and the two of sat down and watched the sun set behind the land, and the sky turn into an artist's palette. I rested my head on his shoulder, and we started talking about pointless things like the weather, sport, and war.

"When do you think it'll be over?" Alfred asked me.

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "But can we not talk about that now? It is my birthday after all."

He smiled and squeezed my palm as he nudged my cheek with his nose rather endearingly.

"Sure thing," he said quietly. "We have better things to be doing than talking anyway."

I'd turned my head to question him, but instead I got caught in a kiss. It was warm and sweet and everything about the moment was lovely- until I felt Alfred's tongue on my lips. I gasped slightly, but when I tried to pull my head away, one of Alfred's hands was holding it in place. I would have yelled at him… had his tongue not met mine. It was very strange, quite honestly. Alfred and I had kissed quite a few times before, but it was nothing like this. Our kisses had always been only lips on lips or lips on cheeks, but this… this was so much better.

Alfred's tongue had strayed from mine and was now running over my teeth and the inside of my cheek. It felt so peculiar, but I really didn't care. When he seemed to finally have his fill, he pulled away, leaving another trail of dribble between us. I smiled, and Alfred smiled, and the two of us started chuckling like maniacs.

"Well that was… new," I finally managed to get out in between spurts of laughter. "But you're still just as messy as you were before."

Alfred beamed as I wiped his mouth with the back of my palm.

"So I take it you liked your present then? Even if you can't hold it in your hands?"

My smile faded for just a moment and I felt a slight surge run through my body. It was naiveté, and confidence, and elation all wrapped up into one feeling. For a moment it took me over and I jumped at Alfred, knocking him to the ground. My hands got lost in his hair and I still don't think I knew what I was doing as I said:

"What are you talking about? I'm holding the best gift I ever received."

Alfred smiled, I smiled, and as strange as it sounds, even though the sky can't be wrapped and put in a box, there was nothing I would have preferred than watching the blend of orange and yellows and reds take over the bright blue sky... Well there was one thing: watching the look in Alfred's sky-blue eyes as I plunged my tongue into his mouth. But either way, Alfred gave me one of the best birthdays I would ever have.

**May 29****th****, 1941 00:35**

It woke me up as soon as it started. My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty as I pulled my pillow over my head.

"It's just rain, Arthur. It's just rain."

Or at least, that's what I tried to tell myself. The water was pouring outside, the stream making loud plunks and clicks against the roof of the house. This wasn't your usual rainy day in England with the light pitter-patter of a drizzle. No… this was a full fledged thunderstorm, which I seldom experienced, and had hoped would have ended a few minutes after it started. I was now painfully aware that that wasn't the case at all, yet I continued to attempt to ignore the rain as it came down harder and harder, trying to break in.

As daunting as the shower was, that wasn't why I was huddled in my blankets with my pillow over my head. That had nothing on what was really causing me to panic.

My room lit up for mere seconds in the darkness and I clutched the pillow over my ears as hard as possible, but the sound was inevitable. Like bombs falling, the thunder crashed and sent tremors through the house. I was shaking, and though I willed myself to stop, the quivering did not let up. Another round of rumbling, and I let loose a very unmanly squeal. I couldn't take this. It was too much like the bombs, the air raids, the quakes while hiding in the underground. To make matters worse, the siren was blaring in my head, telling me to hide, telling me I'd better run for my life or risk dying. Well… I didn't want to die… so I got up… and I ran to the one place I felt safe.

He was snoring, and maybe if I wasn't so frightened I would have thought it was cute, but right now I was on high alert and didn't have time for that. A lightning bolt ripped through the sky and lit up his face. I thought it odd how he was so peaceful while I was a mess inside. It wasn't fair. I put a hand on his shoulder trying to gently shake him awake, but naturally it was my luck that another boom of thunder rang through the house, causing me to dig my nails into his skin and utter a whimper. Alfred winced and frowned, but my claws seemed to do the trick. His eyes blinked open slowly, squinting to make out what was in front of them.

"Arthur?"

I berated myself for whimpering again, but Alfred had quite the opposite reaction. He ripped off his covers and bolted upright to hold me.

"Shhh… Arthur what's wrong?" he whispered calmly as he ran his hands up and down my back. I was about to answer him when more thunder shook the house and I stiffened in his arms. He kept holding me protectively.

"It's alright. Let's sit down ok?"

Alfred led me to his bed and together we sat. I was still shaking, and I hated that I was now 15 years old and still needed comfort during a thunderstorm. But… but it was really comfort from my own memories that I needed.

I dug me face into Alfred's shoulder and tried to quiet my snivels. I grabbed at the fabric of his pajama top and tried to calm myself. He was still rubbing soothing circles into my tense skin.

"Shhh… Arthur it's ok. I'm right here, you're safe."

I glanced up at him for a moment and found he looked entirely concerned. I managed to choke out a sentence of explanation.

"It… it reminds of the air raids," I looked at him through a slightly watery gaze. "…Al I'm scared."

His eyes lit up almost instantly, and I saw the sympathy that took over his face. He might not know what it was like to live through a near-death experience, but he knew that no one should ever have to go through what I went through, especially a child.

His grip on me intensified, and he laid me down on the bed. I wouldn't let go of his sleepwear, so slowly he came down as well. He pulled his duvet over us and continued in his effort to calm me.

"Arthur it's alright, it's alright," he whispered. "You can sleep here tonight, ok?"

I managed to stop crying if I only for a second.

"B-but your mum and-"

"Shh, I'll just tell her the truth. She'll understand."

I dug my head back into Alfred's shoulder as the storm continued. I didn't feel a hundred percent better, but sharing Alfred's warmth I felt much more serene, almost at home. I was still sniffling as Alfred caressed me and did something I'm sure I'll never forget.

"_Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,  
Smiles awake you when you rise;  
Sleep, pretty baby, do not cry,  
And l will sing you a lullaby."_

I gazed up at him and saw he was smiling slightly. He moved a hand up from my back and ran it through my hair.

"_Care is heavy, therefore sleep,  
While l o'er you watch do keep;  
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,  
And l will sing you a lullaby."_

With the thunder roaring in the background, and the lightning illuminating his face, Alfred kept singing and singing until I finally managed to stop my flow of tears. Even then, when my eyes were dry and my whimpering silenced, he held onto me and whispered the comforting words. It was in Alfred's arms that I managed to find peace and fall asleep; they were after all, the one place I felt safe.


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I do not own the song lyrics used.

**A/N:** You guys have been absolutely great to me with this story, really. I know I reiterate that every time, but it's true. Thank you all, for the alerts, favorites, and reviews because they mean so much to me :) On a side note, if you had followed my** tumblr** and I magically disappeared, I'm sorry. It's quite a long story, but basically I deactivated then reactivated and I have a new account with the url of** iggycat**. I feel a bit bad pimping my own tumblr, but I miss you guys, and I'd be really grateful if you gave me another shot :) Anyway, after a long wait, here's a long chapter. Hope you enjoy!

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_7-6-41_

_My dear Arthur,_

_ Oh goodness I miss you. How long has it been? Almost nine months already. You know that I carried you around for nine months? What a wonderful time that was...But that was so long ago and I'm sure it's not what my young and growing boy wants to hear._

_ I know I ask every time, but how are you dear? Have you resumed playing football with Alfred yet? The weather's been a bit nicer lately, as I'm sure it is out in the country. The country which is so far... oh I just miss you so much, love._

_ Things here, dare I say, seem to be looking up. Not a single bomb has been dropped since late May, and I've heard rumours that the war may be over before the year is out. Still that is rather hard to believe with all the precautions still in effect. Though a plane is yet to be seen in weeks, the blackout is still in full effect. Do you remember young Ms Carter from next door? She's helped me paint the windows black, so not a drop of light comes through. Let me tell you, I stuck it to the ARP officer when he came by. No more lectures or legal advisories for me!_

_ In addition to the blackout, we're still abiding to these rations as well. I haven't bought a new dress in over sixth months, Arthur. I know that's not very important to you, but to a woman that's absolutely horrid. But not all is lost I suppose. Just last week, I've gone down to the local RAF base and purchased some used parachute silk to make into undergarments and nightgowns. Making do and mending is fine, but I'd still like a new pair of knickers!_

_ I've run out of room on this piece of paper, and I'm sure you understand that I can't spare another as of now. I miss you so much, sweetheart, and I think of you everyday whilst waiting for your reply letters._

_All my love,_

_Mum_

**June 16th, 1941 19:45**

Alfred and I were playing cards during the evening as we listened to some wartime songs. Actually, I wouldn't consider all of them to be grouped under that description. Just a few moments ago they played "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Judy Garland. Alfred commented on how old it was, considering the record was released in 1939, but I didn't much mind. It was nice to have some variety in the radio; to have a lovely voice tell me there was a place beyond this war torn sea, land, and sky. But wait, if those are the thoughts it brings to my mind, did that make it a wartime song? I honestly don't know anymore.

A radio sounder caught me off guard, and I turned to face the contraption. Alfred actually stopped leaning over in an effort to peak at my hand, and listened as well.

_"This is breaking news, coming from the BBC. We've just confirmed reports that the United States of America has closed all German and Italian consulates. This comes just two days after the US froze all German and Italian assets. The complete reasoning for this action is uncertain, but it is assumed that the United States condemns such actions of the Axis powers. Thus far, the country remains neutral, and an official from the White House has declined to comment. This is BBC news."_

The radio turned to static for a moment before some music resumed. I looked away to find Alfred dropping his cards and heading to the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't even pause as he made his way up the steps. I copied his actions and followed him upstairs.

"I'm gonna ask mom to take me to town. I wanna buy a newspaper."

"A paper? You just bought one two days ago!"

He halted in front of his mother's bedroom door and matched my gaze again.

"Ya I know. An old newspaper's not gonna help much is it Artie?"

He turned back for the door handle, but I grabbed his wrist, effectively stopping him.

"Since when do you care about the news?" I asked him seriously. Alfred had never given a damn before.

He frowned and tried to pull his hand from my grip but I held firm.

"Since important things started happening, that's when."

He stopped struggling and looked me in the eyes.

"'Important things?' We're in the middle of a war! What the hell does that mean?"

Alfred hardened his stance, and stood firm. He didn't try to escape to his mother's abode.

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean. Since when do you care anyway?"

I really didn't want this to turn into a fight, but I suppose I should have seen it coming. My eyes widened at the abhorrence in Alfred's statement. But I wouldn't pull away. I already knew what Alfred meant by "important things." I'd known the whole time. To me, it was just a fact of Alfred confirming it. He turned back toward the door, but before he entered I found my voice.

"You only care about what America's involved in!"

I said it. What both of us had been avoiding for awhile but knew to be true.

"Today with the consulates, and two nights ago as well. You only care when the US is concerned!"

Alfred flinched away from the door and turned to me.

"That's not true," he tried to sound solid, stern.

"But it is," I reminded him. "When have you ever considered anything else important?"

Alfred looked angry. He took a step forward, still trying to keep his calm.

"Plenty of things have been important," he struggled to make it sound offhanded, and that really set me off.

"Oh really? Then where were you when the Navy finally sunk the _Bismarck_, or when Allied forces had to evacuate Crete?" I took a step toward him, and this time, he took a step back. "Where were you when the RAF bombed the Ruhr and Brest? What about when the Allies invaded Syria and Lebanon? Where the bloody hell were you?"

I all but screamed the last part out in Alfred's face. He'd flushed bright red by now and did not look happy at all.

"Shut up," was all he'd said at first, and I'd just followed up with a glare. The second time he was louder, as he put his hands on my chest, "Shut up!"

"You can't tell me what to do."

I pushed him back, and that got Alfred absolutely furious. He pushed with much more force this time, and I actually hit the wall and crumbled to the floor. My head hurt a bit from the impact, but I managed to look up in time to see Mrs. Jones exit from her bedroom, only clad in a towel. I'd been wondering what took her so long to hear us, but I suppose that explained it. She glanced in between the both of us, looking even more indignant than Alfred as she shouted:

"What on Earth happened here?"

I just glanced away, and Alfred must have done the same because she got no response.

"Alfred F. Jones, you'd better look your mother in the eyes right now."

I turned back to find the sheepish boy cautiously turning to eye his mother. I have to say I would have done the same thing had I been Alfred. I'd never seen his mother act this way, so I would have been vigilant too.

"And you," my eyes met with Alfred's mothers. "Stand up Arthur."

I did, quite honestly out of fright.

"I don't know what happened, and neither of you seem inclined to tell me," she started, shifting her eyes between the two of us. "But that's fine, since it doesn't concern me. You're both only hurting yourselves."

I would have made some snide comment on how _no_, actually it was _Alfred_ that pushed _me_ into the wall, but now was not the time nor place for it.

We were both silent for a few more moments as we let that sink in.

"I'm not going to spank either of you, nor will there be any punishment for this," Alfred and I actually flashed a look of disbelief at each other; were we really getting off scot-free? "But what I will do, is stand here, all night if it takes that long, and wait until you apologise to each other."

Oh. I don't think either of us expected that. We weren't being punished, no, but this did require each of us claiming fault and apologising. It didn't sound that bad, but my damn pride still got in the way. I wanted to forget it. I wanted to stop puffing my cheeks out, trying to be intimidating and I really did just want to apologise, the way Alfred had done after our argument a few months ago.

_"Why are we fighting over this? There's already a war on, the last thing I want is a fight with my best friend."_

His words were ringing in my head, but still I didn't say anything. He must have been rather choked up as well, since almost fifteen minutes passed, with the only sound being Mrs. Jones tapping her foot against the floor.

"Let me make this a little clearer," Alfred's mother spoke up after the elongated pause. "You two are friends. Best friends. And I will not stand to have a microcosm of the war enter my household."

I sparred a glance at Alfred, and he really looked terrified. I wondered if he even knew what the word "microcosm" meant.

"We all have our fights, heck, Alfred's father and I have our squabbles, but you need to get over them," she leaned down, though just a bit, since Alfred was almost her height. "Apologise to him. Because I know you can, and I know you want to."

Alfred blinked, soaking that up, and Mrs. Jones moved over to me.

"You should apologise as well. I can't read you, like I can my Alfie, but I'm sure you care just as much."

She leaned back up and put her arms akimbo. A smile crossed her face and she grinned brightly.

"Also, because you two were kind enough to interrupt my bath. If there are no apologies in the next five minutes, you'll be spending the evening scrubbing my feet and then massaging them."

Needless to say, Alfred and I made up very quickly.

When Mrs. Jones was pleased, we made our way downstairs, and Alfred insisted we make our apology official at the tire swing.

"I'm sorry. Really, I had no right to question you like that. I hope you're not too mad."

"No, it's ok. I forgive you. And I'm sorry I pushed you. You're ok right?"

A ghost of a smile graced my lips.

"I'm fine, Alfred. Britain is strong remember?"

"Course! How could I forget?"

And as we made a promise under that swing to never have another fight, I found myself wanting to believe it, but knowing it couldn't be true.

**July 4th, 1941 21:30**

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been planning for Alfred's birthday for months. I wanted it to be every bit as special as mine, though the present may not be tangible. Still, I did want to make him suffer just a bit, like he'd done to me. So when he leaped onto my bed this morning, effectively waking me up and asking, "Arthur? Do you know what today is?" I answered with a playful "Friday?" He frowned, no surprise, but a quick peck on the cheek wiped it right off his face.

I completely ignored the fact it was Alfred's birthday for most of the day. Throughout the morning and afternoon, Alfred asked me questions like "Soooo anything planned for today?" as he'd drum his fingers nervously along whatever surface was available.

"If you sit quietly, I'll read you an excerpt from _The Great Gatsby._"

That quieted him down, and surprisingly he took the offer. I asked him about it later but all he had to say was: "I like your reading voice."

But nonetheless, I did have something planned for Alfred, I was just waiting for it to be time. I'd thought about it for awhile now, wondering what I could do for the boy. He'd probably be content with just spending the night snogging, but I wanted something more than that, I wanted something he'd remember. So when his mother finally announced she'd be turning in for the night, Alfred all but jumped me like an excited puppy.

"Tell me we're gonna do something, Artie. It's my birthday for Pete's sake!"

He Eskimo kissed me and I smiled.

"Whose Pete? Someone I should know about?"

Alfred's whole face broke out in a grin, and he rolled over so I was on top of him.

"Nope! No one could replace you, Arthur."

I didn't know what to say to that in all honesty, so I just laid my head down on Alfred's chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was comforting to me, just as his singing or smile was.

"Happy birthday, love."

We laid on the floor for a few more moments, until I actually managed to pull myself away from Alfred. I stood and offered him my hand, which he took and did not release.

"Since you've been oh-so patient, I'll tell you that yes, I do have something for you."

He smiled and nudged his nose into the crook of my neck. He started kissing me but I wriggled free.

"Al!"

He giggled and recaptured my hand.

"Sorry. Continue."

I let my face cool, as I looked away and spoke.

"Well I don't actually have anything for you... the war hasn't exactly improved in the 3 months between our birthdates..."

I know I shouldn't have beat myself up over this, really I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. Even though Alfred also hadn't had a present for me in April, he'd given me something for Christmas, and so much more. I suddenly understood why he'd wanted to give me a gift I could touch and feel; it was something I could keep and remember him by.

"Hey, Artie it's alright," he gently squeezed my palm. "We already both agreed that we have the best presents in the whole wide world."

If my cheeks had cooled at all in the past few minutes, then they reheated right away. I smiled and looked back at him.

"I know, it just..." I trailed off not really knowing how to put it, but I knew Alfred understood. His eyes told me so much more than his words did. "But... even so... I will have something for you next year. Mark my word."

A grin spread over his whole face, as he brushed away my fringe and planted a kiss on my forehead. When he pulled away, I knew I was red from my toes to the tips of my ears, and Alfred's chuckle affirmed it.

"Alright Artie. I'll hold ya to that, but right now, let's make do with what we have."

"Ah, right."

With Alfred's bigger hand entwined with mine, I lead him over to the radio. I turned it on, and lowered the volume so as not to disturb Alfred's mother. Once done with that, I tuned it to a music station, and started to wonder if this was silly. Similarly to how I'd thought writing Alfred a poem was... not the best idea.

"So... my birthday present is listening to the radio with you? That's fine, I guess."

I hadn't realised I was caught up in my own thoughts until Alfred broke me from my daze. He was staring at me with that dopey smile, and bright eyes. I punched him lightly in the arm.

"Idiot. Do you really think that's what I planned? Listening to music together? We do that nearly everyday."

Alfred scratched the back of his neck, but kept that innocent smile on his face.

"Well, I don't know. I can't read your mind or anything, and really, anything you have planned is fine with me."

My lips curved upward, and most of the uncertainty I'd been feeling fell away. I tried to keep myself calm as I looked Alfred in the eyes.

"I was thinking that maybe," I averted my eyes to the floor. It was just too embarrassing. "...maybe we could dance."

Just like when I read the poem, I waited for Alfred's mocking. But it never came. Instead, when I glanced back at his brilliantly blue eyes, I saw nothing but excitement.

"That's a great idea!" he shout-whispered, if that's even possible. Then in a much quieter voice, "I mean... it would be great... if I knew how to dance."

Alfred's grin was still in place, but it was now surrounded by rosy red cheeks.

"You don't know how to dance?" I'd asked him stunned. My mother had signed me up for lessons when I was no more than eleven.

"Well, no..."

"I'll teach you."

Alfred lifted his gaze and I smiled encouragingly.

"That is, if you're willing to learn."

"No yeah, of course!" he supplied quickly as he lifted our linked hands, and put his other on my waist. "This one goes here right?"

"Yes...if I'm taking the woman's role..."

"Which you _are_, because it's _my_ birthday, and you're the most awesome beau in the world, right?"

My face bloomed red and I suddenly found my socks, very interesting.

"Fine..."

Alfred giggled for a few moments, and my face heated even more. I was embarrassed that I was taking the woman's role, but at the same time, Alfred had just called me his boyfriend, and for some reason that caused something to grown and swirl inside of me. I would have pondered it a bit more, but light fingertips, raised my chin and brought my vision directly into Alfred's blue pools.

"Teach me how to dance, love?" he mocked my accent, but it set my heart aflame. I had to look away again, as I started to give him instruction.

"Well, we'll start with a standard waltz because that's fairly easy," I met his eyes again, this time serious. "But you're going to have to lead, alright?

"Gotcha."

I spent the next half hour teaching Alfred the 1-2-3-4, technique, and repeatedly having my foot stepped on. By the time he finally got it down, I had my head resting on his shoulder, and our hand positions had been completely overlooked. Alfred's palms were now clasped around my waist, while I had one against his chest, and the other on his right shoulder. It just seemed so much more natural that way.

"Artie," he piqued at the start of some new song, I hadn't been paying attention to. I'd been moving my feet to the comforting sound of Alfred's heartbeat, since I found that to be a much lovelier rhythm.

"Mhmm?" I raised my head and Al was smiling so genuinely, that I couldn't help but mimic him.

"I think this song is about you," he said, as he rested his head next to mine.

I started listening to the lyrics of the slow song.

_"Well, Green Eyes with their soft lights_

_Your eyes that promise sweet nights,_

_Bring to my soul a longing, a thirst for love divine."_

I flushed and continued to listen.

_"In dreams I seem to hold you, to find you and enfold you_

_Our lips meet and our hearts, too, with a thrill so sublime."_

"Well damn, I'm pretty sure it's about you now. I dream about you all the time," he paused for a moment then added: "But your lips don't taste like lime..."

I giggled, and would have commented, had Alfred not joined in on the singing.

_"Those cool and limpid Green Eyes_

_A pool wherein my love lies_

_So deep that in my searching for happiness_

_I fear that they will ever haunt me_

_All through my life they'll taunt me_

_But will they ever want me?_

_Green Eyes, make my dreams come true."_

Alfred leaned in, and I did as well. We shared a long and sweet kiss as a female voice took over and re-sang the verses. The moment was perfect, I might even dare call it _sublime_, but when the pretty voice spoke it's last line, and Alfred broke away to sing along, I thought the moment would end.

_"Green eyes, I love you."_

"You're a terrible romantic, you know that?" I smiled shyly.

"But you like it. You're blushing," he pinched my cheek and I brushed it away.

"Maybe I do..." I mumbled and even though another song had started, I leaned up to Alfred's ear.

_"Blue eyes, I love you."_

**July 7th, 1941 12:15**

Only a few days after his birthday, a package arrived addressed to Alfred. It was yellowed, and battered, but the two of us could still make out the return address in the corner.

"It's from my New York. My grandparents must have sent it!"

I stared at the parcel for a moment, and slowly reached out to touch it. It was a silly impulse, I know, but this paper, this package had come from so far away, from a place I'd never and probably would never go to, and my first instinct was to touch it.

"Have your grandparents ever sent you anything before?" I asked quietly, and pulled my hand away.

"Well not often since it's gotta travel pretty far, except for every once in awhile when they send me a letter, _but_," he paused as if for effect. I rolled my eyes. "They always send me a present for my birthday. I remember every one since I turned two!"

I smiled and eyed him, disbelievingly.

"Oh? You remember what they gifted you at the ripe old age of two?"

I saw as Alfred's smile faltered and eventually fell.

"Well no... but I do remember my mom telling me about them sending her diaper money as a birthday present."

I couldn't help but snort, and Alfred's plump, flushed cheeks did not help matters.

"Artie!"

"Alright, alright, sorry," I mumbled, but had to bite down on one of my fingers to keep from laughing. Alfred huffed until I eventually got myself together. "Ok I'm fine. Please, open your package."

"Are you going to laugh if diaper money falls out?" Alfred asked seriously.

"Yes," I truthfuly assured him with a smile on my face and he looked horrified. "Oh come off it Alfred and open your present."

That seemed to do the trick, and Alfred's peppy aura returned as he made quick work of the paper. When the front part of the envelope had been ripped away, he halted suddenly and made no further moves. From where I was sitting I could only see the back of his parcel, and so I leaned in to get a look at what had made Alfred stop so suddenly.

They were mostly red white and blue, with some yellow mixed in throughout. Three of them, maybe a hundred pages a piece, with bright covers and the list price of 10 cents. There was a man depicted on each of them, someone I'd never seen before, clad in a bright blue suit with a dashing white star on his chest. I didn't know who it was, but then again, I had no interest in this type of thing. Though when I looked back at Alfred, with his smile verging on ridiculous, I knew he couldn't have been happier to see this new superhero; one that might even relate to him.

"Captain America?" I asked a bit skeptically but with a small smile on my face.

Alfred nodded his head up and down so quickly, I worried it would fall off his shoulders.

"Arthur you have no idea how great this is! I haven't read a comic book in years! And look," he commented eagerly, poking at the cover. "He even beats up Hitler in the first issue!"

I couldn't help but smile, even though I'd been doing that a lot lately. Alfred just had an effect, that made you want to grin, for no apparent reason and with no warning whatsoever. At his insistence, I snuggled up next to him as he read me the March, April and May editions of the brand new comic. Somewhere in my heart I knew my birthday present to him didn't even compare. But that was ok... because the real gift was his smile.

* * *

_14-9-41_

_Arthur,_

_ Do you really have to go back to school in September? Well not go back, but be homeschooled? That's too bad, since back here, 14 has become school leaving age. I don't have to return this year, but I almost wish I did. I'm sure you know that lots of kids have had to step up and take work that's been left by all the men who've gone to fight. I got a job too, just about two weeks ago, working for the post office. I didn't think it would be too bad, honestly, what could be bad about riding your bike around all day delivering telegrams? I mean, so long as there isn't a daytime bombing, I'm safe, and the job would be pretty relaxed. At least that's what I'd thought before I delivered my first message. Arthur... I didn't realise that the only telegrams that get precedence and immediate delivery now a days are the ones coming from the War Office. I don't know how many mothers and sisters and wives I've made cry just by handing them a sheet of paper. I can't even imagine... to have so little as a note telling you your father, brother, husband or son is missing, dead, or dying... Gosh, Arthur, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off on that little tangent, but I just wanted someone to know. I hope I never have to deliver a telegram to you, or anyone else quite frankly. I just want this war to be over, and I want you to come back so instead of using my bike to deliver terrible news, I can use it to ride to Piccadilly's Circus with you, and we can buy Cokes again like we used to. Do you remember that Arthur? I do, and I miss the taste of pop. But I would rather our soldiers have it than I do. Anyway this note has gotten much too long. I look forward to your response as always!_

_Sincerely,_

_Matthew Williams_

**November 18th, 1941 22:50**

"Where did the summer go?" Alfred whispered to me one night.

We were cuddled up together under his sheets, and I was making the most of his body heat. Ever since that day which feels like forever ago in May, Alfred would often tell his mother that I was frightened, or scared for some reason, just so we could sleep together. Even on bright nights, when the stars shined, and there were no storm clouds in sight, he would come up with some type of valid reason for the two us sharing a bed.

Surprisingly enough, even though I knew it was wrong (though we weren't _truly_ lying) I never really had a problem with Alfred's often odd pretexts.

"He was frightened of the thunder. It reminded him of the bombs," had been the original and valid story. His mother sympathized, and had no problem with it, and since then, excuses like "He's having flashbacks," or "The dark scares him. It reminds him of the blackout," have worked perfectly well.

So that's how I wound up next to Alfred's warm body, dozing off, to the sound of his smooth breathing.

"Artie? Didja hear me?" he wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me flush against him. Alfred had always been touchy-feely, but I could swear he was becoming more so.

"Mhm seasons change, Alfred," I mumbled and got more comfortable. Alfred's warmth and the content feeling in my stomach was really doing me in. I think he said something after that, but I really can't remember since I drifted off...

_ I woke up to the sounds of quick footsteps on the floor. There was no pattern in the way they moved, and their owner was clearly in a rush._

_"Move, Alfred, gotta move faster."_

_ That voice? I knew that voice. Sitting up slightly in my bed I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I'd been right, Alfred was the owner of that voice, and he was rushing around his room in a frenzy._

_"Al?" I piqued worriedly and he stiffened. I watched as he turned toward me, several pairs of socks in both his hands. "What are you doing, Alfred?"_

_"Go back to sleep, Arthur," he said monotone and didn't even offer a smile. He leaned down and I saw him deposit the socks into a large suitcase. I was getting concerned now._

_"Alfred? Are you packing?" As I ripped the covers off, Alfred started moving faster. He zipped up his bag and lifted it like it was nothing._

_"No, course not. Go back to bed, Arthur."_

_ He slipped out the door and down the stairs. Needless to say I followed him. The house was deathly eerie as we made our way downstairs, and Alfred headed to the front door._

_"Where's your mother?" I asked, as Alfred started toying with the lock._

_"Gone."_

_ He yanked open the door and walked briskly through it._

_"Gone? Where has she gone? And where are you going?"_

_ I had to run to keep up with Alfred, who was headed to the family car parked on the street._

_"Go back to sleep, Arthur. It's better this way."_

_ He reached the car and threw open the back seat. His luggage was loaded next, and before he had the chance to slip inside, I caught up and grabbed hold of his arm. He looked down at me, and I suddenly noticed that his eyes were a dull gray, not their usual sky blue._

_"Alfred!" I shouted pleadingly. "What's going on? I don't understand!"_

_ He was trying to shake me off, but I kept the best hold that I could on him. Glancing back up, I noticed too, that his hair was dulling, going from gold, to blonde, to pale leaving it ghostly white. I didn't know what was going on._

_ After a few moments of struggling, Alfred seemed to give up and just sighed. He hovered over me with those lifeless eyes._

_"Arthur we talked about this. I'm leaving."_

_ The blood in me stopped flowing._

_ My grip loosened._

_ Alfred pulled away._

_"What?..."_

_ He seized the opportunity that came with my moment of hesitance, and took a seat in the car. From a quick glance, I could see his mother and father sitting in the front, also gray and unmoving. I didn't waste time moving my eyes back to Alfred, to find the rest of his colour draining. His skin, his clothes, everything was melting into shades of black, white and anywhere in between._

_"I've gotta go now Arthur. The plane leaves soon."_

_"Plane? What plane?" I knew I sounded hysterical now but I couldn't help it._

_"America's pretty far. I probably won't see you again."_

_ I'd tried to hold it in, but I felt the liquid trickle down my cheek. Alfred's father started the engine._

_"No...no you said you wouldn't go!"_

_"I'm sorry, Arthur," he muttered, but there was no compassion. He was gray now. So was the car, and the sky. I looked down at my own hands, and saw the colour vanishing from them as well. _

_"No, wait," I said looking back up, shocked to find the car was gone. But I'd never heard it leave! Where did it go?_

_"No... no..."_

_ I was shaking my head back and forth, dizzy from the emotion, movement, and tears._

_"Alfred..." crept out of my throat, getting consistently louder. "Alfred. Alfred!"_

_ I'd started running forward but the car was nowhere in sight. I must have tripped over a rock, because I would up on the floor, motionless, but that didn't stop my voice._

_"Alfred?"_

_"Alfred!"_

_ Come back..._

"Arthur!"

Alfred shook me awake, at least I think I was awake.

"Arthur?" he asked alarmed, holding my gaze. "Arthur you were sweating, and shaking. You really freaked me out."

I looked down at my hands for a second. They were pale yes, but there was an off-white pigment granting me colour. I moved back up to find Alfred. He was there. Right next to me, holding me, and his hair was golden and his eyes were that electric blue. I could still feel my breaths coming heavy, but I moved closer and dug my head into Alfred . I clung to him for dear life.

"You're here. You didn't leave," I mumbled into his top. Oh god this was wonderful.

"Artie? Shh calm down you're still shaking," he'd mentioned while soothing me again. He does that so damn well. "Let's go get some fresh air, alright?"

I don't think I was in the best state of mind as it was, so I did as told, and followed as Alfred lead me down stairs. Though this time, he was walking much slower and it didn't seem like he was going anywhere... I kept a death grip on his hand. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

There was a chill in the air, that immediately reminded me I was alive and conscious. It was pretty cold for late November, but I didn't really mind. The major contrast from the warmth of the bed, to the cool temperature outside actually helped to ease my mind. I had something to think about other than my horrid nightmare.

Though not for long.

"Artie?" Alfred spoke out of nowhere. I hadn't realised we'd ended up at the tire swing. I hadn't even realised we'd stopped walking.

"Sorry, I'm not thinking straight," I apologised and Alfred laughed quite quietly.

"It's okay," he said, leaning himself down on the tree trunk, and pulling me in between his legs. "Here, sit down, stay awhile."

He grinned, and I just barely returned it. Alfred noticed.

"Arthur what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" he asked soothingly, no pressure in his words.

I frowned down at the grown and nodded. Though... would you consider that a nightmare? No one died. There wasn't even any blood.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he encouraged. "Whenever I used to have nightmares, I'd always tell my mom, and then I'd feel a lot better."

Alfred rubbed his thumb along my knuckles. Why was he always calm and collected when I was a mess? I nodded discreetly, and Alfred squeezed my palm.

"Go on then."

I kept my eyes trained on the floor.

"You were in it... my dream."

I wondered if Alfred frowned or smiled.

"Uh-oh. I sure hope I wasn't trying to kill you or something."

That actually got me to smile, and I met those lively, coloured eyes again.

"No, nothing like that," I giggled, but it quickly fell away. "You did something bad though..."

I saw him frown this time, and I didn't like it one bit. It didn't belong there, on his face.

"What'd I do?" he asked warily. I tried to duck my head again, but Alfred caught my chin. "No, not this, Arthur. Please tell me. I want to know."

Just like all the times before, Alfred was being truthful; as genuine as possible. He was actually going to care when I said:

"You left me."

His eyes brightened like the moon.

"What?" he asked as though he'd heard wrong.

"You... you packed up your things and left. Not much more to it."

There was a pregnant pause that followed, which I had no idea how to interpret. Maybe he was contemplating it, or maybe he was wondering why I clung to him even in my dreams. I was about to intersect, when Alfred spoke.

"Arthur... I'd never do that to you."

His eyes were shiny, almost wet, and they for some reason looked vulnerable.

"You know that right?"

I was staring at him completely shocked. Most words caught in my throat, but I did manage to speak.

"I-I know you said that before, just-"

"When I said it earlier it was true. And as I say it now it's just as sincere. I'm not going to leave you Arthur," he paused to smile then pointed at the swing. "See? Now you even know it's official!"

We were only fifteen, young by most people's standards, but I was sure I'd found something in Alfred that I would never find in anyone else. So even though there was a war on, and we'd only known each other for a year, I took Alfred for his word; because I believed them to be true.

**December 7th, 1941 19:20**

No. This wasn't happening. This was all wrong, terribly wrong. The BBC must just have an error, ...a rather huge error. They must have read the story wrong. Yes, that's it, this is all just a big blunder, right? ...right? Somebody please tell me it's a mistake...


	12. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. I based the beginning of this chapter off of a real radio bulletin that played shortly after London heard of the attack. If you're interested in hearing the real report, let me know. Okay done being a history nerd now, enjoy._

_A/N 2: Oh also during my extremely long hiatus, two pieces of fanart were done for this story. I'm really grateful, and it would be awesome if you'd check them out and __give the artists some well deserved recognition :)_

* * *

**December 7th, 1941 19:20**

_"London has heard its first reports of the attacks on Hawaii and the Philippines just a few moments ago. It is still too early to give you an official reaction, but the British government has previously defined what exactly would happen if the United States were to engage in war with Japan. We did receive an official report from Singapore, that British Air Reconnaissance in the south China seas had confirmed earlier reports of Japanese activities. About the President's message to the Emperor of Japan, we heard nothing but the announcement that a message had been sent."_

The radio continued to cackle on, but honestly I couldn't hear a thing. Pearl Harbour, an American Naval Base, had been bombed out of nowhere. The Japanese had struck early on a Sunday morning whilst most were still asleep, and needless to say, the Americans were ill prepared. I can't imagine the number who must have perished... Did Hawaii even have air raid shelters? There was sure as hell not the evasive protection of the Underground. For a moment I wondered where you might hide on an island, but then I simply bit my lip at the bitter irony.

I cast a glance at Alfred who still had his eyes glued to the radio. We'd been tranquilly listening to music and playing cards when the news bulletin broke in. The both of us had turned our full attention to the radio, alarmed, and worried at what terrible occurrence had just taken place, and just how many were left dead in the aftermath. It had been almost 20 minutes since that initial report, and Alfred was catatonic as he still held his cards in his hands, seemingly unable to move.

I let my eyes settle on Alfred for just a moment, as I took in his appearance. He wasn't crying or distraught, and he didn't look the slightest bit elegiac as I'd expected. His arms and legs were rigid and his chin was set high as he just stared at the radio, listening to it spew out the same account with slightly altered details each time. Alfred seemed stultified, and when I leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder I could feel his muscles tense instantly under my touch.

"Al?"

I tried to use as gentle a tone as possible; after all, I knew how defensive Alfred could get about his country.

A few moments passed, and Alfred elicited no reaction. I frowned, and tried again.

"Alfred?"

I squeezed his shoulder lightly, but soon realised that was a mistake. At my movement Alfred jumped and shook me off with such force that my hand was sent reeling back to me. I stared at him shocked, but he just continued to listen to the radio, absolutely stoic and motionless.

When he'd reacted to my touch, the cards in his hand went flying and one card, the ace of spades, landed delicately in my lap. I stared at it for a moment, before glancing around at the other cards that had scattered: the king of spades, the queen of spades, and the jack and ten as well. He'd had a straight flush, and he was about to beat me when we were interrupted. I frowned and looked back at him, still completely enthralled in the radio waves.

_"It is unclear just how many casualties there are from this attack, but we have received word that more than ten American ships including the U.S.S. Arizona and the U.S.S. Oklahoma have been badly damaged. Washington has also reported the loss of more than 100 aircraft at Pearl Harbour. We will of course, continue to update you on this event as news comes in."_

On that note, I rose and turned the knob on the radio until static became silence. I glanced at Alfred, but as I was in front of the radio, I couldn't tell if he was staring at me or simply looking right through me, waiting for the next report. I frowned again getting a bit worried at Alfred's staggered condition. I took a step forward and waved a hand in front of his face. Finally, he blinked and I smiled, albeit sadly, that I at least now had his attention.

"Alfred? Alfred, are you alright?" I whispered quietly.

He blinked at me few times, and then he must have lost it. The facade, the appearance of indifference melted, and Alfred bit his lip and whimpered. He held a hand to his face, covering his eyes, and I did not dare address the fact that he was crying. I knelt by his side and hugged him, just as he'd done to me in times of trouble. I thought perhaps whispering reassurances would calm him, as it did me, but I had no idea how wrong I was.

"Alfred, shh, it's alright," I cooed as I started to rub his back. "Everything will be fine."

He paused in his sniffling to look up at me, and my heart froze at the sight. Alfred's eyes were red and puffy, yes, but that did not deter from the fact that he looked entirely livid. He put his hands on my chest and fiercely pushed me off of him in his rage.

"Fine? How the hell can this be fine, Arthur?"

I stared at him perplexed, but also with the inability to answer his question. He glared at me, and in that moment I didn't see the Alfred that loved me, but a person who had no tolerance for the rubbish he was hearing, and who did not intend to settle the issue peacefully. I tried to harden my stance and glare back, but it was in vain, because I genuinely feared my best friend at that moment.

"Well?" he hissed at me, as he took a step closer. "Are you ok with what just happened? Is it ok that all those innocent people died?" He stopped, right in front of my eyes, towering over me. "Is that _fine_?"

I took a step back, and Alfred took another one forward before I answered.

"No, well, yes and no- Alfred please just calm down. Yes, it's terrible that all those lives were lost, but it's not as if the US has joined the war yet!"

"Yet? Oh so you _are_ expecting America to join in on the fun aren't you? Well wasn't that just the perfect invitation?"

I tried to take a few more steps backwards, but I ran into the wall. I looked back quickly, cursing under my breath, and then back up at Alfred blocking my path.

"Well? Are you proud of yourself? America's definitely gonna join the war now, and it's all your fault!"

Now I'd tried to be calm and collected with Alfred until that point, but those incredibly harsh and untrue words got to me. I glared back up at him.

"What? When did I ever say I wanted America to join the war? How is this my fault?"

Our gazes were fixed on each other, neither one letting up in intensity. Alfred raised a finger accusingly and pointed it at my chest.

"How is it your fault? How can't you see it?" he said and roughly pushed my shoulder. "This is all your country's fault! You couldn't settle your stupid problems peacefully, so instead you started a war!"

I stared at him incredulously, not believing that he'd even just said that.

"Excuse me?" I growled at him, and pushed his shoulder as he had mine. "Since when am I the British government? You think I wanted a war? That's the last thing I would ever want!"

"So why did you start one?"

"I didn't, you stupid idiot!" I yelled, and that's when Alfred rammed forward and sent me first into the wall and then the floor. He followed shortly after yelling obscenities at me, as he dealt kicks and punches.

"Stop lying!" he shouted, as I groped for his shoulders, trying to push him off. "Now so many Americans are gonna die because of this stupid war in Europe!"

Somewhere in Alfred's hateful words I found the impetus to reverse our positions, and had Alfred squirming under me.

"That's all you care about, isn't it!" I screamed at him, hoping to get through that big head. "It doesn't matter that I almost died in the bombing raids, or that thousands of men have already died fighting in this clash between countries!" I shook his collar vigorously trying to get him to understand. "It doesn't matter that families have been separated or shattered because of this war! No, none of that matters to you!" I could feel the hot tears streak down my bruised face, but I ignored them as I stared back into Alfred's crazed blue eyes. "You don't care about others, you don't care unless you're directly involved!"

I could hear hurried footsteps from upstairs and knew Alfred's mother was about to come and break up our fight. At that moment I was sad, angry and confused, and I couldn't hold back as I fisted my hand, aimed, and punched Alfred square in the nose. Blood started to flow, mixed with tears, which I refused to acknowledge.

I stared at Alfred once more, shook my head and whispered one last thing before Mrs. Jones made it downstairs.

"You never cared about me. You don't care about anyone but yourself. "

Mrs. Jones pulled me off of her son, absolutely furious. She sent me to my room with no dinner, and she ordered Alfred into the kitchen so she could wipe up his mess of a face.

That night I went to sleep with the blood of an Allied soldier coating my hand.

**December 8th, 1941 **

Both the United States of America and the United Kingdom have declared war on Japan.

President Roosevelt rendered December 7th "A day which will live in infamy."

Alfred and I are not on speaking terms.

**December 11th, 1941 **

Italy and Germany have declared war on the United States.

The United States has declared war on Italy and Germany.

Alfred has purchased five newspapers to date.

**December 12th, 1941**

Hungary and Romania have declared war on the United States.

Mrs. Jones has now attempted reconciliation eight times between Alfred and I. Not once has it worked.

**December 13th, 1941 14:30**

I woke up again to the cold. It seemed that ever since the 7th, everything had frozen over, stealing any remaining trace of warmth. The days were cold, but the nights were worse. I was hard pressed to believe it had nothing to do with the fact that I hadn't shared a bed with Alfred in almost a week. But even as I thought about it, I wouldn't admit to myself that I missed him and his warmth; no, not after what happened.

As I made my way downstairs for breakfast, I noticed Alfred was already seated at the table. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before we simultaneously looked away. I took my seat across from him, patiently waiting for my serving of rationed bread and rubbery eggs.

An awkward few moments passed in which no words were spoken, and the tension settled in like thick fog around the two of us. I really did hate that Alfred and I got into fights, but this one had brought me to a breaking point. How dare he accuse me of starting a war? It was absolutely ridiculous. I mean, I understand that he was emotionally unstable at the time, but I still can't believe that I saw that other side of Alfred. There was a side, which exposed an icy and malicious person who didn't care. But when I started to think about it, that just confused me even more so. Alfred _did_ care; he certainly wouldn't have comforted me, or purchased gifts, or loved me if he didn't, but... he also wouldn't have harmed me, right? I'd tried to stop thinking too deeply about the matter though, as it hurt my brain.

"Good morning," brought me out of my musing, as Mrs. Jones stepped into the dining room.

"Good morning," I replied mechanically.

"Mornin'," was Alfred's response. He then continued, speaking his thoughts. "Where's breakfast?"

"There isn't any," she said rather calmly, but Alfred suddenly became a lot more alert.

"What? Why? Did we run out of food?" he asked fretful, and I just watched the scene before me.

"No," his mother spoke coolly once more. "We have plenty of food, but there will be no breakfast for either of you."

She left the room for a moment, and Alfred looked at me as if I had something to do with it. I glowered back at him until his mother returned and stole away my attention.

"Here you go," she said handing me my coat, and then moving around the table to hand Alfred his.

"What's this?" I asked puzzled, but she simply motioned to put it on. I buttoned myself up, as did Alfred, and his mother led us to the door. The two of us were told to put our shoes on.

"Now, I've failed in past attempts to get you two to make up, but this is the last straw."

She opened the door, and a swift chill took over the corridor.

"There will be no breakfast, no lunch, and no dinner until you two patch everything up," she said as she lightly pushed her son outside.

"Aw, but mom, I'm hungryyyy," Alfred moaned, and Mrs. Jones just rolled her eyes. She lightly tapped me, and I stepped through the threshold into the cold with Alfred.

"Well, then you'd best make up quickly, Alfred," she said with a cold smile. "Neither one of you is allowed to enter back into this house until you have settled your dispute."

My eyes widened at those words, and I stared pleadingly at Alfred's mother.

"But, Mrs. Jones, it can't be more than five degrees out!"

She gave me the same fake smile she'd given her son and replied just as coldly.

"Tough luck, Arthur. You'll just have to huddle for warmth."

And that was it. She shut the door and left Alfred and I shivering in the cold.

I turned and found him looking back at me with his hands in his pockets and his nose already turning a bright cherry red.

"What do you suppose we do?" I asked and Alfred simply glanced down and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well that's just brilliant," I mumbled under my breath and started to saunter off the porch and around the frozen garden. I could hear Alfred's quiet steps as his shoes crunched on the frosty grass, but didn't comment on it. I guess the fact that he was following me was positive, considering I'm sure both of us were eager to get back inside.

"Where ya going?" Alfred asked almost heedlessly, and I just answered with a quiet: "I'm not sure."

We paced around for at least twenty minutes before I started to really tremble from the cold. I stood still for a moment, just rubbing my arms as the wind blew in my face.

The sound of footsteps stopped a few moments later, and Alfred was standing beside me, with his face buried in his collar. He lifted it out, for just a moment, to question me.

"You ok?"

I wanted to glare at him, but the cold got to me, and I instead just settled for a snarky remark.

"Just peachy, Alfred. I'm cold and hungry," _and the person whom I thought was my best friend, seems to be a self centered brat_, was what I wanted to add, but didn't.

Alfred took a step forward, without commenting.

"Follow me," he said after he'd taken a few more steps and I hadn't pursued him. For some reason I obliged, following Alfred to the back. Somehow I knew where we were going before we got there. The old tree was devoid of leaves, and the wind was so strong that the swing was swaying by itself.

"Sit," Alfred commanded, and I grudgingly did as told. I gazed at the ground before I felt a presence on my shoulders. Looking up, I found Alfred sitting next to me, stripped of his jacket. I glanced over my shoulders and realised that that's what had been the presence; Alfred had placed his coat on me.

"You'll catch a cold," I mumbled, but Alfred just turned away.

"Thank you, mother."

I smothered my laugh, but could not suppress a small smile. This was the Alfred who was my best friend, the one I'd fallen in love with. Where had he disappeared to before?

We sat in silence for a few more minutes until Alfred spoke again.

"Umm, I hope those bruises don't hurt too much. I've been meaning to say that for awhile now..."

I looked down at my body, and gently traced my stomach with my hand. Alfred packed a punch, and the bruises did hurt quite a bit, but I could see this was his way of trying to apologise.

"Uh, no, they're healing just fine," I assured him. Quiet enveloped us for a few seconds until I followed up in a near whisper. "And your nose? It's not broken is it?"

Alfred snorted, and a quick gust of wind mussed up his hair.

"Ya think I would still be sitting here if you'd broken my nose? My mom would have dragged me to the doctor, probably fearing death. She can be melodramatic sometimes."

I turned to Alfred, pondering his statement.

"Really? It must run in the family."

Al was silent after that, and I feared I may have struck a chord, even though... I did think he overreacted the other day.

I started thinking during our nonexistant conversation that maybe I should initiate the real apology for once; after all Alfred had done it every other time. If Alfred could be strong and suck up his pride, I could do it as well.

"Listen, Alfred-"

"Hey, Artie-"

We'd started simultaneously, and glanced at each other. Alfred's cheeks we're a brilliant crimson, but I'm not sure whether it was from the cold or embarrassment.

"Go ahead," Alfred insisted, and so I did.

"Oh, well," I began, but quickly started to derail. No, I was going to be the mature one this time. The two of us really needed to stop having these fights. "I just... wanted to say I'm sorry for punching you in the nose." I paused and glanced into his eyes. "I'm sorry we had to have that fight, and I'm sorry America had to get involved in all of this..."

"Don't apologize for that," Alfred said quietly, but it was sincere. "It... it wasn't your fault, and it was really stupid of me to have blamed you. I'm sorry."

Our apologies were rough, and I could see that we weren't going to instantly make up as we had in the past, but we were getting there. This fight had been dreadful, violent and completely unanticipated, and I think that's what made it so hard for us to express our regret and forgiveness. We sat there quietly, and eventually Alfred scooted next to me, and took my hand. It was cold, and felt more calloused than usual, but I held it tightly.

"The apology is official then, right?" he whispered.

"Of course," I replied softly and motioned to the swing. I couldn't help but think of all the other apologies and promises that had taken place here.

He squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say... if the US does have to fight in a war, I'm glad they have such a strong ally in Britain."

I smiled and stood up, Alfred following, and we made our way back to the house. Once the door was opened, Mrs. Jones made us hug, as proof that we'd actually gotten over our quarrel, and eventually let us inside. The two of us enjoyed a quaint and relaxed breakfast of rationed bread and rubbery eggs.

**December 14th, 1941 12:00**

Alfred had disappeared outside sometime this morning. I'd been so caught up in a book, I didn't realise he was gone until I saw him return, shivering and holding a pocket knife. I asked him about it, and immediately regretted doing so.

Alfred had cut down the tire swing. He said the rubber was needed for the war effort.


	13. Chapter 12

_A/N: I'm not sure I even know what to say. I'm know you don't want to hear a long list of excuses as to why I haven't updated in four months, but please just know that I am very sorry, and I have no intention of abandoning this story. Sometimes life just gets in the way and fanfiction is not my first priority. I hope you understand. Also, thanks to Trumpet-Geek for some historical help, and for betaing, and to Americat who has also betaed for me. Well that's all I've really got to say, so thank you for sticking with me and remember that feedback is very much appreciated. Thanks!_

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**December 23rd, 1941 17:45**

On the plus side, things between Alfred and I didn't sour any further. That's not to say that our situation got much better, but at least we hadn't fought again. We started to spend more time apart; as I took to reading more and more, Alfred would vanish for long periods of time without any explanation. We never asked each other about what we did after lessons, we simply let the other do as they please. I think we were both a bit sore and didn't wish to irritate the other any further. Though in spite of our time apart, Alfred and I had made some unspoken agreement that without fail we would spend time together after dinner. We spent the evening hours talking, playing games, or listening to music, but still I couldn't help but miss what we had before Pearl Harbour. I think the two of us tried to assure each other that everything was fine, the same, but it wasn't. We hadn't slept together in almost a month, and Alfred and I hadn't kissed in that time either.

"The mail came," Alfred called, as he closed the door. He brought over a stack of envelopes and sat down next to me.

"Hey look! There's one for each of us," he said, handing me my letter. I could tell from the return address it was from Alfred's father.

"Is yours from dad too?" he asked, peeking over my shoulder to check for himself. "Hey it is! I wonder what's inside." He started to shake his envelope, and the jingling of coins could be heard from inside. I watched as he ripped open the package and spilled out the money before reading the accompanying note. Typical Alfred.

"Fifty pence! Wow, Arthur, do you know what I could buy with that much?"

I shook my head lightly and smiled.

"A thank you card that you can send back to your father?"

Alfred's face fell slightly when I didn't play into his little game.

"Yeah I guess," he added as he picked up the note that had fallen out with the money. He unfolded it, and I watched as his expression grew increasingly somber as he read it. His smile disappeared as if he hadn't just received a wonderful gift.

"What does it say?" I asked warily, trying to be careful not to upset Alfred. He turned to me with a small frown.

"Dad won't be able to come for Christmas this year," he spoke in a pained voice as his shoulders drooped and he turned away. "In fact he may not be able to visit again for a long time."

"Alfred..." I tried to pick my words cautiously; the last thing I wanted was to be punched again. "I'm sorry..."

He looked up at me only to frown again.

"Don't be, it's not your fault. Plus dad told me not to get upset... he said to have a 'stiff upper lip' or something like that."

I smiled a bit and leaned over to nuzzle Alfred's neck for a moment, though upon realisation of what I was doing, I pulled away quickly. I felt a bit awkward after that seeing as we hadn't shown much affection lately.

"Yes, well," I mumbled trying to save myself. "You should listen to your father, he's a smart man."

Alfred looked up at me and forced a smile.

"Aw, thanks. Come here, Art."

He pulled me close and embraced me and I realised I'd almost forgotten how warm and inviting he was. I hugged Alfred in return, and when he pulled back we were both smiling and I think our moods had lifted a bit.

"So what did Dad send you?" he asked curiously, pocketing the money in his trousers and turning to face me.

I looked down at the white envelope and instinctively shook it, much like Alfred did. I was surprised to not hear the same sound of coins rattling around inside the pouch.

"I've no idea," I told him earnestly, and he just rolled his eyes at me.

"Well you're obviously not gonna find out if you don't open it," he replied with a smug smile on his face. He nudged my shoulder gently and cooed, "Open it, open it."

"All right, all right," I glared at him annoyed, but he knew me well enough by now to know I was not angry. He beamed and halted his incessant poking as I started to tear at the seam.

"What do you think it is? Maybe it's paper money and that's why it didn't make any noise." He seemed to ponder that for a moment and as he did, he began to pout. "Hey, that wouldn't be fair because paper money is worth more than coins, and dad only sent me fifty pence! Why would he send you more? I'm his son!"

"Alfred," I took hold of him and roughly shook his shoulders. "Snap out of it! Your father didn't send me any money."

I let go of his shoulders and he adjusted his glasses which had slipped down the bridge of his nose as I'd shaken him. For a moment I thought the clueless look on his face and the way he went cross-eyed was adorable, but I kept it to myself, still unsure of where we stood with our relationship.

"Oh really? What did he send you then?"

I broke my gaze from his bright eyes to remove the contents of my envelope. Inside was a similar note, written in Mr. Jones handwriting, as well as several developed photographs. Alfred was just as quick to recognize them as I was.

"Hey! These are from last Christmas," he blurted out, a vibrant grin overtaking his face. He took the pictures from me and flipped through several of them, pausing on a particular photo unexpectedly.

"What is it?" I asked, cocking my head slightly to see the photograph that seemed to have bewildered Alfred.

The moment I saw it, I realised why Alfred had lingered. This photo was of the two of us, sitting amongst torn wrapping paper that was strewn everywhere, and Alfred had his arms wrapped snuggly against my waist. I vividly remembered when the picture had been taken last Christmas; I had just opened Alfred's gift to me, which had been a few rolls of new film, and I'd insisted that we take some pictures on the spot. Thinking back on it, I'm glad I persisted, since looking at the picture now and recalling such a fond memory made my heart swell. Seeing Alfred and I, a year before, with my plush unicorn clutched in my arms and Alfred's grinning face on my shoulder really just put a smile on my face. I compared the captured moment to what Alfred and I were like this Christmas and suddenly something dawned on me, but Alfred beat me to it yet again.

"We were so happy," he mumbled, and I noticed he sounded incredibly disheartened though he was smiling.

I glanced back at the picture and nodded at Alfred's comment. I remember how joyful we'd all been last year, celebrating and feeling that for a moment in time, there was no war going on outside these walls. This year was so much different, with our strained friendship, and the Jones family not being together at Christmas time. It was amazing to see how just one year could change everything.

Right about then I felt Alfred wrap an arm around me, and bury his face into my shoulder.

"What happened?" he murmured into my collar, and the vibrations his voice sent through my skin were both thrilling and depressing.

"Life happened, Alfred," I sighed, and turned in our half embrace to hold him. No words were said, but it was rather obvious we were both thinking the same thing- if this is what only one year had done to our friendship, how would we survive the rest of the war?

"I don't want to lose you," Alfred whispered glumly into my neck. "I swear this war is trying to tear us apart."

"Alfred..." I honestly didn't know what to say to that. Surely blaming everything on the war would be the easy way out, but it just couldn't be so. "Perhaps, but it's also what brought us together."

He lifted his head from my shoulder and a few locks of hair sprawled out on his forehead. I brushed them away and sent him a small smile.

"Yeah I guess I should be thankful for that," he returned his own pained grin but squeezed me tight in our embrace. "But still..."

"What goes up, must come down, Alfred."

This time he frowned and looked at me with worried eyes.

"Wait, what does that mean-"

I cut Alfred off not only because I didn't know the answer to his question, but because I felt that I had a perfect opportunity. I leant forward and snuck a kiss; nothing too romantic or messy, but a much needed source of contact. I pulled away not a second later, but Alfred's cheeks were already flushed, and he grinned at me devilishly, eyebrows slanted as if he were concocting an evil plan. Within a moment, the kiss had sparked something new and joyous, and we forgot our gloomy conversation if only for a second.

"That's all you've got?" he said challengingly and licked his lips. I would have retorted had he not pressed his lips back up against mine. He held me steady this time, ensuring I did not escape, and kissed me like I'd deprived him of something essential for living. I could feel him smile into the kiss, and when he shyly lapped at my bottom lip, I opened my mouth and let him really kiss me. He tasted of the chicken we'd just had for dinner, and if I wasn't so desperate to have him close, I almost certainly would have been repulsed by it. As it was, I couldn't help but push back against Alfred's tongue, and crumple his white shirt in my palms as I kept up my half of the kiss. It was perfect and wonderful and so well deserved after all we'd gone through, and I probably wouldn't have ended it so soon if Alfred hadn't stuck his hand up my shirt. I pulled away with a gasp, the sudden cold sensation of Alfred's fingertips on my skin, gone in a second.

"What was that?" I tried to hiss, but really it just came out breathless.

"Uhm," Alfred looked completely embarrassed with his brilliantly red cheeks and the way he averted his eyes. "I was experimenting?"

"Experimenting?" I glared at him, but couldn't stay angry long. After all, I wasn't angry that Alfred had touched me; it didn't feel bad or anything, it was just unexpected.

"Yeah? I mean the last time I experimented it turned out better for the both of us."

He offered me a sheepish smile, and memories of our first kiss from almost a year ago flooded my brain. I really couldn't argue with his logic.

"Does this mean we've officially made up?" he changed the subject in a hushed voice, as he moved to take my hand. "I know we've been through a lot, and we've made mistakes, but I really hate being mad at you. I hate that feeling of being so alone."

I threaded my fingers through Alfred's and squeezed his palm gently.

"Alfred, I will always forgive you if you are willing to forgive me."

I matched his gaze and suddenly we were smiling at each other, as happy as we could be, just like the year before.

I noticed that the photograph of the two of us had wound up on the floor sometime during our escapade, and as I moved to pick it up, Alfred beat me to the chase. He lifted it delicately by the edges, careful not to get his fingerprints on it, and handed it to me.

"Keep it safe," he spoke with a tender smile.

But I realised very quickly that I was not the best one for that job. I pushed his hand away as I collected the other pictures Mr Jones had sent me.

"You keep that one. It'll be my Christmas gift to you."

Alfred smiled, and I grinned back, and we shared a little laugh after he pressed a warm kiss to my forehead.

"Thanks, Arthur," he said, lips smiling against my skin. "I'll keep it forever."

"Of course you will, Al," I assured him, but I was talking more of the memory than the picture itself. "Keep it safe, or it'll be gone forever."

**December 25th, 1941**

_25-12-41_

_Dear Mum,_

_So much for the war being over by Christmas, I suppose. But why am I starting this letter off so melancholy? Today is supposed to be a happy day after all. Well, happy Christmas, Mum. I wish I could spend the holiday with you, but sadly that's not in the cards, so instead I send my love and best wishes in this letter._

_Things with Alfred have gotten better. You'll be glad to hear that we've finally gotten over our petty fights, and things have returned to normal. I know you worry about me, Mum, but I assure you Alfred is not a bad influence; we both just get riled up and we're at the wrong place at the wrong time. So please, don't going thinking these fights are his fault, because they're just as much my own._

_On a lighter note, Mrs Jones, bought both Alfred and I a gift. It's a new deck of cards, and though we have to share it, I think we're both very grateful. (And yes, Mum, don't worry, I said thank you.) Anyway, it's a fantastic new set. Each card has the name of an aircraft, its silhouette, and it identifies it as either friendly or foe. Alfred's been fanatic about memorizing which is which, though I've told him I doubt any planes will be flying over __Lancashire anytime soon... or so we hope._

_I'm running out of space now, Mum, and I realise I've almost forgotten something! I've enclosed a photograph of Alfred, Mrs Jones, and I taken last Christmas. Mr Jones was kind enough to develop some film for me, and I thought I'd send one photo back to you as a meager Christmas gift. I hope you like it._

_Always yours,_

_Arthur_

**December 31st, 1941 23:55**

Christmas came and went without much commotion. There were few gifts to open, and Alfred had simply drawn me a picture this year as a present. The thought was nice, and it was all that was really needed to get me to smile.

At about six we sat down to a nice dinner, and Mrs Jones smiled at both of us and said something to the effect that she was sorry the war was still going on, but she was glad we'd recuperated our friendship. We both agreed to that, before Alfred hustled her like usual, and pored himself a glass of milk. A few hours later Mrs Jones retired to bed and again gave us the okay to stay up and bring in the new year. I was quite excited about this considering what Alfred had done last year.

Alfred ushered me onto the couch, but before I could say anything he ran upstairs.

"Stay right there," he assured, and soon enough he returned with a thick leather bound book in his hands.

"Read to me?" he asked so sincerely, I really didn't have a choice. "It'll help pass the time."

And so from eight to almost midnight, I sat on the couch with Alfred's head in me lap, carding my fingers through his hair as I read off lines of fairytales. Yes fairytales; for whatever reason, that had been the book Alfred selected from the library.

"And they lived happily ever after," I concluded and flipped the book shut, after about the seventh story.

"Hey, why'd you stop?" Alfred complained as he blinked open his eyest, and looked up at me curiously. He leant up a bit haphazardly, and I helped him keep his balance as he made himself comfortable on the couch.

"Why don't you read to me now?" I offered, placing the book in his lap, and resting my head on his shoulder.

Alfred's face softened, and while he didn't read like I requested, he tugged at blanket, covering the two of us snuggly with its warmth.

"Aw Arthur you know I can't read as well as you. You're so much better with pronouncing the big words and stuff."

I huffed at that but closed my eyes, and cuddled into Alfred's neck.

"Fine. Can we go to sleep then? My eyelids feel like bricks, love."

I had my eyes closed so I couldn't tell for sure, but I imagined that Alfred still blushed at the pet name. As tough and brave as he tried to make himself seem, he was really just a big softie at heart.

"But Arthur, we still have," he paused, presumably to look at a clock. "We've got five minutes left. Come on, you can stay up for an extra five minutes, can't you?"

"Or we could get five extra minutes of sleep," I murmured as I got cozy. I really did start to fall asleep, until I felt my head loll off of Alfred's shoulder and I woke with a start. I heard Alfred giggling mellifluously at my side as I lifted my head and blinked tiredly at him.

"Wow you really do need your beauty sleep, don't you?"

I reached a hand out to hit him, but he evaded it, and I swung my fist into the sofa.

"Haha, too slow!"

"Oh hush, you," I demanded, but there was no malice in my voice, only drowsiness.

A moment passed, and I closed my eyes again. This time I felt Alfred pull gently at my sides and ease me down on the couch with him. We were laying face to face, only a few centimeters apart, with the blanket soothing us, and giving off the faint impression of safety. I vaguely remember the sound of the grandfather clock chiming, and Alfred's mumbled words before he pressed a caring kiss to my lips, and wrapped his arms around me.

"Sleep well, Arthur. I know I said this last year, but it was a good year regardless of all the problems."

His lips descended on mine again for a fraction of a second, and then the feather-like touch was gone, and I was left wondering if he'd kissed me at all.

"I hope next year proves better than this one," he leant closer, resting his chin in my hair. "I love you."

I would have told him I loved him too, but I was already fast asleep.


	14. Chapter 13

_A/N: I wish I could say that updates will come faster from here on out, but I don't want to lie to you all. I will however apologize for my incompetence. I'm incredibly sorry, but I hope you stick with the story through the slow updates. Thanks to Trumpet-geek for betaing, and I hope you all enjoy_!

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**January 26th, 1942 14:20**

I can't say that I hadn't been surprised when one day after lessons, Alfred suggested that we take a walk to town. For nearly every day of the past two months he'd scamper off right after our schooling and wouldn't reappear until dinnertime. I never brought it up, but I did find the sudden aberration a bit disconcerting.

"Town? Why, do you need something?" I asked as I put my pencil back in the small tin used to hold our writing utensils. Alfred eyed the can for a moment before looking back up to me.

"Nah, I just thought that we don't do much together anymore and it might be a nice change," he clucked his tongue as he waited for me to clean up my workspace. Mind you, Alfred left his own papers and books strewn everywhere in complete disarray.

"Did you ask your mother?"

He nodded as he adjusted his socks.

"I asked yesterday and she said it was fine as long we pick up some groceries while we're there," he paused, fishing around in his pocket before pulling out a small ration book and a few coins. "I think she said she wants some more grease and sugar."

"Oh, well that is your entire diet, isn't it?" I smiled, and Alfred poked me in the ribs.

"Hey, you make it sound like I'm fat. That's not true! I just have a hearty appetite 'cause I'm still growing!"

"Mm hmm," I agreed, nodding. "That's why your trousers have become a bit more snug, right, love?"

Alfred's face flushed, though whether it was from the jab or the pet name, I wasn't quite sure. He averted his eyes, looking at the floor with a forlorn expression before he spoke again.

"You'd still like me if I was fat, right?"

He slowly lifted his head back up as if afraid of my answer. I cocked my head and my brows drew together. He couldn't possibly be serious could he?

"Alfred, considering all we're getting are these measly rations, I hardly think it's an issue," I explained, though the pout on his lips told me he was unsatisfied with that response. "I was kidding you know," I continued. "And Alfred, if we survive this and these bloody rations, and you get old and plump, I will still love you."

I looked left and right ensuring Mrs. Jones was not around before I leant down and kissed Alfred's cheek. His pout was subdued and a smile replaced it as he rose from the floor and led me out the doorway.

"Thanks, Arthur," he said, a light blush still coating his cheeks just as I shut the library door.

"Of course."

We suited up in our coats and mittens. I even sported my green striped scarf that my mother had made me years ago. I imagined she'd have been happy to see me wear it.

After a quick goodbye to Alfred's mother, who wrote up a short shopping list because she didn't trust her son to remember all of four items, we were walking down the path that led to the small village. We walked along the dirt road and Alfred had to stop every few minutes to wipe away some of the soil that the wind brushed up on his glasses.

"Why don't we just go back and ask your mother to drive us?" I asked as I noticed Alfred had stopped to clean his glasses yet again. We were only about a quarter of the way there, and the chill nipped at my cheeks every time we had to stop for him.

"It'll be faster and you won't get your specs dirtied."

After wiping his glasses off on the fabric of his coat, he replaced them on the tip of his nose and shook his head vehemently.

"No, I wanna just spend some time with you. It's been a long time since we just took a walk, you know? Plus we gotta conserve gas!" He looked up at the sky, a bit overcast though not rainy, before turning back to me. He reached a hand out experimentally, and as if it were a natural reflex, I eased my own covered palm out of my pocket and took Alfred's. He grinned shortly before looking ahead once more, down the dusty path.

"So... how are things?"

I raised a brow at him before letting loose a small chuckle.

"You make it seem as if we haven't talked to each other in ages."

"Well, we haven't spent too much time together lately."

"And whose fault is that?" I asked, not meaning to have it come out as snarky as it did. Alfred frowned at me but did not release my hand.

"I've been busy. I'm sorry. I'll promise to make some more time for you in the future," he said and squeezed my hand. I would've asked him what exactly it was that was eating up all his precious time, but I didn't want to ruin what was a nice moment in time.

"Maybe come spring you can help me in the garden," I suggested and Alfred agreed.

"Yup! We need to grow more carrots for my x-ray vision," he supplied and I smiled. We both melted into a fit of laughs.

After that we walked in companionable and blissful silence for a time. Alfred had been right, it was nice to just walk and have some time alone. It felt lovely to just hold Alfred's hand with nothing around us but the slight breeze, and beautiful dark green grass and hills. I became a lot fonder of the countryside the longer I stayed with Alfred.

All the same, sometimes I did miss the hustle and bustle of London, the sounds of buses and women clicking down the streets in their high-heeled shoes. There were times when I missed my old room, the old school building, and the library where I used to go and just sit and read for hours on end as a child. Of course, what, or whom, I missed the most was my mother. I remembered how at 13 when the war had just begun, I'd wanted independence, which my mother found hard to give after just losing her husband. But now, after being away from her for nearly a year and a half, I was hanging on to every word in every letter she sent, and I missed her terribly. Sometimes I wished she'd come visit; I desperately wanted her to meet Alfred and I knew he'd love to meet her as well.

At the thought, I turned and smiled at Alfred, who returned the gesture with a sunny grin.

I wanted Alfred to visit London the most, I thought. He had showed me all around the area, and the town, and he'd even designed my room for me. All I wanted was to do the same for Alfred and show him London, show him our flat, and my school, and even trivial things like where my mother and I used to go to buy groceries. I used to think that was a brilliant idea, but I was quickly reminded of why it couldn't come true. There was a reason I'd left London, after all. The last thing I wanted was to have something go wrong. The sirens, and running, and what if I lost Alfred? What if he didn't know his way to a shelter? What if he got caught under some type of debris or worse?

I felt my arm go taught and then relaxed again. Alfred had pulled my arm and was now shaking both our limbs up and down.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked, looking worried. "You got a little pale there for a second."

I was embarrassed at my own thoughts. That I fretted over losing Alfred when he wasn't even in any danger, was rather ridiculous. I pulled at my scarf and ducked my chin inside, hoping to hide the humiliation that must have shown on my cheeks.

"Ah, nothing. I think the cold is just getting to me."

Alfred looked unconvinced but he didn't argue. He glanced back down the path and I followed his gaze to find the small town now in view, not too far ahead in the distance. To the left of the small high street there were a few scattered houses, and to its right, the train station where I'd arrived. I stared at the tracks that seemed to curl around a hill and disappeared into the horizon.

"At least we're not too far now," Alfred said after a moment and then let go of my hand to point at something. I did look at where his index finger was pointing and saw that a train was coming around the bend, headed south into the station and then presumably back to London or maybe Manchester.

"I bet you'd like to be on that train, huh?" Alfred spoke out loud and I turned to him just as the train pulled into the station. "I mean not right now, obviously. But when the war is over."

I nodded and looked back at the train. I couldn't make out much but it seemed like there was a couple parting ways on the platform. The man waved to the woman he'd been with as he boarded the train.

"Yes, I mean of course I'd like to go home, but you'd have to be completely barmy to ride it now."

Alfred laughed, and we watched as the train started up once again, moving out of the station.

"Barmy, Arthur?" he said through small peals of laughter. "What a British thing to say."

And so we walked the rest of the way to town with Alfred asking me what other strange words I knew, and me replying that they were not strange, that that's the way I'd grown up and the way I'd learned to speak.

"I'm sure there must be strange American terms as well," I said at some point as we approached the outskirts of the town.

"Like what?"

"Well for one thing you're always calling your trousers pants when pants are in fact your undergarments."

Alfred rolled his eyes as I snickered.

"What difference does that make?" he asked in a huff. "And I think it's you who's got it wrong. Pants aren't underwear. They're different."

"Right, of course," I nodded just to make sure Alfred didn't fuss. He grinned in satisfaction and then walked in front of me to open the door to the grocer's.

"Ladies first," he sang, but my glare quickly shut him up. He offered an apologetic smile as we continued our way into the store.

We picked up the items Mrs. Jones had requested, and I ripped each stamp out of the ration book as Alfred fiddled with the coins. I was just putting a loaf of bread on the counter to pay when Alfred called me over. I excused myself but the shopkeeper just waved me off with a kind smile.

"What?" I asked, but I saw it before Alfred even had time to answer the question. In a small pile near the exit was a bundle of the day's newspaper. Alfred had always been interested with the news but I knew what it was it was that intrigued him in this case. Across the front of the paper the headline read: First American Forces Land in Northern Ireland.

"You want it, don't you?" I asked, but it was a stupid question; we both knew what the answer was. Alfred nodded his head vigorously before he replied.

"Yeah, but I didn't bring any money. Did yo-"

But I was already pulling a coin out of my coat pocket. Alfred's face expanded into his usual blinding grin and I almost fell over when he caught me in a hug.

"Aw you're the best, Artie! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll pay you back as soon as we get home!"

I knew that was a lie. I'd never see that money again, but it was ok. The kiss Alfred gave me as we walked back home was payment enough.

**February 19th, 1942 17:35 **

I'd been curled up on an armchair in the library reading a nonfiction piece about the Victorian Era when I heard some clicks and clangs of pots and pans. At first I wrote it off as Mrs Jones getting ready to cook, but as the sounds continued for another 15 minutes I got suspicious. I quickly dog-eared my book and made my way downstairs to the source of the noise. Of all the things I was expecting to see, Alfred surrounded by a sea of metal trinkets was not one of them.

"What are you up to?" I asked curiously as I stepped over what seemed to be a piece of an old bicycle. The kitchen floor was covered in metal contraptions from aluminum pans and cans to an old pram, which I never recalled seeing in all my time in the Jones household. Alfred spun around at the sound of my voice, an old tin toy in his hands.

"Oh hey, Arthur! I was just moving all the stuff I collected inside. I think we'll take it all into town to donate tomorrow."

I took a few more careful steps and looked around. Besides all the metal contraptions, the floor was also lined with jam jars, some worn books and stacks upon stacks of previously used paper. I made my way over to the books, and picked up the first one on the top of a pile.

"Is this the book of fairytales we read on New Year's Eve?" I asked, but flipping through it I knew it was. I didn't remember reading any of the other books in the stack but I sent Alfred a questioning glance regardless.

"Yeah," Alfred responded as he put the toy car he was holding down and walked over to me. He picked up another book and thumbed through it. "I thought since we already read it we could donate it." He glanced at me and then back at the book in his hands. "And the rest of these were pretty worn out but still good. I thought they could be put to better use too."

"Where will they be donated?"

I replaced the book on the pile and glanced at the other items cluttering the room.

"Well I'm not really sure how it's divided, but I know some would go to the troops and some would be used to restock libraries that were burned in the Blitz." I looked up at him and he smiled. "I've been reading up on how to help in the war effort ever since, ya know..." he trailed off but I understood. He made his way back amongst the random scraps of metal and I listened as he explained everything to me.

"I read that aluminum can be used to make planes," he said pointing to some pots and cans. "And other scrap metal can be helpful too. That's what all this other stuff is for," he continued, motioning to the assortment of items. "Old paper can be recycled and reused and I can't remember what the jars were for but I know they're helpful!" He took a few steps to his left and picked up a rather large tin which he started to shake.

"I've even been collecting all the meat and chicken bones from our meals," he said with a grin as a look of repulsion crossed my face. "Apparently they can be turned into aircraft glue!"

He put down the tin and moved to fiddle with something else on the floor.

"Is this what you've been doing for the better part of two months?" I asked, moving toward the piles of loose paper.

He nodded and picked up the toy car he'd been holding earlier.

"Yeah. I mean we gotta help out. We have to do our part, even if that means making some serious sacrifices."

I turned and saw the way Alfred was admiring the toy in his hands. I wondered if he'd gotten it as a boy and if it reminded him of his home in America.

"You do realise that most, if not all of this will probably go to the British troops, not the Americans."

He looked at me and back to the small car. It was painted red with a few yellow accents.

"I know. But we're all in the same boat now. Allies, remember?"

I smiled and imagined what it might have been like if we'd come to that conclusion earlier. All the fights we could have avoided, all the harsh words and cold stares. What if instead of fighting and then spending so much time apart we'd worked together, through thick and thin? How marvelous that would've been.

"Yes, of course. Forever allies."

Alfred cocked his head and smiled. After a few seconds he stood, resting the car upon the kitchen counter. I saw as he checked in both directions to see if his mother was near, and I knew what came next.

"We're more than allies, though, right?"

I didn't know when the conversation turned from being about to America and England to me and Alfred, but I liked where it was going.

"Yes, we're friends."

"Just friends?" he whispered in my ear and I shivered.

"Best friends."

He wrapped his arms around my middle and hugged me tight. I could have sworn he was becoming more adventurous and nibbling on my ear but I was probably imagining it.

"Beaus," he said, and it was more of a statement than a suggestion.

"Yes, okay we're beaus," I agreed and I felt the smile on Alfred's lips when he kissed me. This time I was sure of the gentle biting as Alfred pulled back and nipped lightly at the edges of my lips. I blushed and tried to get his contact back on the center of mouth, but when I did that he moved farther away, kissing at my jaw and then further down at my neck.

"Alfred," I sighed contently, but pushed him back nonetheless. I was enjoying the treatment but his bold new signs of affection were moving a bit fast for me. He looked up, not dejected, if only a bit concerned.

"Ya don't like that?" he asked, holding me at arm's length.

"No it's not that, I just..." I averted my eyes feeling a bit uncomfortable under his gaze. "I like it," I assured him, not really knowing what else to say.

"I understand," he said with a smile. "We'll pick it up later when we go upstairs," he said, waggling his eyebrows. I scowled at Alfred but it didn't have the desired effect while a bright blush was staining my cheeks.

"In the meantime you wanna help me move some more stuff? I gotta get it to fit in the car somehow."

"Sure," I agreed and Alfred turned with a spring in his step, out of the kitchen and toward the door. I started to follow but paused for a second when a piece of paper caught my eye. On top of one of the many piles Alfred had gathered was an old piece of schoolwork that I recognised. I picked it up and read the messy heading, scribbled in Alfred's handwriting:

_Is there such a thing as "forbidden love"?_

In a moment my heart fell. I read it over, and smiled despite the sinking feeling that was quickly taking over. How long ago had it been? Why was Alfred going to throw these words away— words that were so beautiful and inspiring and meant so much?

"Arthur? You coming?" Alfred called from the front door and I snapped back to attention, looking in his direction.

I glanced the note over one last time before stuffing it in my trouser pocket and running to catch up with my beau. There were some sacrifices I was just not willing to make.


End file.
